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RECOLLECTIONS 



®alJ(^®aIll of Samuel '|laprs. 



'ti*' 



TO WHICH 13 ADDED 



PORSONIANA, 



SIXTH THOUSAND 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

346 & 348 BROADWAY. 
1856. 






W. L. Sboenuiker 

7 s 'oe 



PEEFACE. 



Samx^il Rogers was born at Stoke Newington, 30th July, 
1763. His first publication, An Ode to Superstition, with 
some other Poems, appeared in 1786; at which period the 
coldly classic Mason (then a veteran) and the feeble Hay- 
ley were perhaps the most popular of our living poets : 
Cowper, though The Task* was in print, had scarcely 
won all his fame ; Crabbe had put forth only his earlier 
pieces ; and Darwin was yet to come. By The Pleasures 
of Memory, in 1792, Mr. Rogers rose to high reputation ; 
which he fully maintained by his Epistle to a Friend, loith 
other Poems, in 1798. He gave nothing new to the pub- 
lic till 1812, when he added Columbusf to are-impression 

* The second volume of Cowper's Poems, containing The Task, is 
noticed with high praise in The Gentleman's Magazine for Dec. 1786. 
f See p. 152 (note) in the present volume. 



VI PREFACE. 

of his Poems. It was succeeded, in 1814 by his Jacque- 
line^ in 1819 by his Human Life, and in 1822 by the First 
Part* of his Italy, which was not completed till several 
years after, and which closes the series of his works. 
During the long remainder of his days he confined himself 
to a few copies of occasional verses, one of them composed 
so late as 1853.t — Of all that Mr. Rogers has written, 
The Pleasures of Mem^ory and the Epistle to a Friend 
have been generally the most admired : it is questionable, 
however, if Human Life will not be regarded by posterity 
as his master-piece, — as i)re-eminent in feeling, in graceful 
simplicity of diction, and in freedom of versification. 

Mr. Rogers commenced life by performing the duties 
of a clerk in his father's banking-house : but after inherit- 
ing a large share of the concern, he ceased to take an ac- 
tive part in its management; and, himself an object of 
interest to society, he associated on familiar terms, during 
more than two generations, with all who were most dis- 
tinguished for rank and political influence, or most eminent 
in literature and art. — Genius languishing for want of 



* Published anonymously: see Literary Gazette for January 19, 
1822, where its reviewer thinks " there can be little hesitation in as- 
cribing it to Southey." 

^ See the lines, " Hence to the altar," &c., in his Poems, p. 305, 
ed. 1853. 



PREFACE. Vll 

patronage was sure to find in Mr. Rogers a generous patron. 
His purse was ever open to the distressed : — of the prompt 
assistance which he rendered in the hour of need to vari- 
ous well-known individuals there is ample record ; but of 
his many acts of kindness and charity to the wholly ob- 
scure there is no memorial — at least on earth. 

The taste of Mr. Rogers had been cultivated to the 
utmost refinement; and, till the failure of his mental 
powers a short time previous to his death, he retained that 
love of the beautiful which was in him a passion : when 
more than ninety, and a prisoner to his chair, he still de- 
lighted to watch the changing colours of the evening sky, 
— to repeat passages of his favourite poets, — or to dwell 
on the merits of the great painters whose works adorned 
his walls. — By slow decay, and without any suffering, he 
died in St. James's Place, 18th December 1855. 

From my first introduction to Mr. Rogers, I was in 
the habit of writing down, in all their minutiae, the anec- 
dotes, &c. with which his conversation abounded : and 
once on my telling him that I did so, he expressed him- 
self pleased, — the rather, because he sometimes had the 
mortification of finding impatient listeners. Of those me- 
moranda, which gradually accumulated to a large mass, a 
selection is contained in the following pages; the subjects 
being arranged (as far as such miscellaneous matter would 



PREFACE. 



admit of arrangement) under distinct heads ; and nothing 
having been inserted which was likely to hurt the feelings 
of the living. 



EDITOR. 



RECOLLECTIONS 



OF THE 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 



I WAS taught by my mother, from my earliest in- 
fancy, to be tenderly kind towards the meanest liv- 
ing thing ; and, however people may laugh, I some- 
times very carefully put a stray gnat or wasp out 
at the window. — My friend Lord Holland, though a 
kind-hearted man, does not mind killing flies and 
wasps; he says, "I have no feeling for insects^ — 
When I was on the Continent with Richard Sharp, 
we one day observed a woman amusing her child by 
holdino; what we at first thoue-ht was a mous6 tied 
to a string, with which a cat was playing. Sharp 
was all indignation at the sight ; till, on looking 
more closely, he -found that the supposed mouse was 



RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 



a small rat; upon which he exclaimed, "Oh, I have 
no -pity for Q'ais I " — People choose to give the term 
vermin to those animals that happen to like what 
they themselves like ; wasps eat peaches, and they 
call them vermin. — I can hardly persuade myself 
that there is no compensation in a future existence 
for the sufferings of animals in the present life,* — 
for instance, when I see a horse in the streets un- 
mercifully flogged by its brutal driver. 



I well remember one of the heads of the rebels 
upon a pole at Temple-Bar, — a black shapeless 
lump. Another pole was bare, the head having 
dropt from it.f 



In my childhood, after doing any thing wrong, I 
used, always to feel miserable from a consciousness 

* Compare a poem On the Future Existence of Brutes, by Miss 
Seward, — Poet. Works, ii. 58. — Ed. 

\ " "The last heads whicli remained on the Bar were those of 
Fletcher and Townley. ' Yesterday,' says a news-writer of the 1st 
of April, 1772, ' one of the rebels' heads on the Temple Bar fell 
down. There is only one head now remaining.' " P. Cnnningham's 
Hcmdhooh of London, sub Temple-Bar. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL K0GEK8, d 

of having done it : my parents were quite aware 
of this, and therefore seldom reproved me for a 
fault, — ^leaving me to reprove myself. 

When I was about thirteen, my father and mo- 
ther gave a great children's ball, at which many 
grown-up folks were also present. I was dancing 
a minuet with a pretty little girl ; and at the mo- 
ment when I ought to have put on my hat and given 
both hands to my partner, I threw the hat among 
the young ladies who were sitting on benches, and 
so produced great surprise and confusion in the 
room. This strange feat was occasioned by my sud- 
denly recollecting a story of some gallant youth 
who had signalized himself in the same way. 



In my boyhood, my father one day called me 
and my brothers into his room, and asked us each 
what professions we wished to follow. When my 
turn came, I said (to my father's annoyance) that 
I should like "to be a preacher;" for it was then 
the height of my ambition to figure in a pulpit ; — • 
T thought there was nothing on earth so grand. 
This predilection, I believe, was occasioned chiefly 



RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 



by the admiration I felt for Dr. Price and for his 
preaching. He was our neighbour (at Newingtou 
Green), and would often drop in, to spend the 
evening with us, in his dressing-gown: he would 
talk, and read the Bible, to us, till he sent us to bed 
in a frame of mind as heavenjy as his own. He 
lived much in the society of Lord Lansdowne and 
other people of rank ; and his manners were ex- 
tremely polished. In the pulpit he was great in 
deed, — making his hearers forget the preacher and 
think only of the subject. The passage " On Yir- 
tue," cited from Price in Enfield's Speaker^ is a very 
favourite one with me, though probably it is quite 
unknown to readers of the present day. 

["in praise of virtue. 

"Virtue is of intrinsic value and good desert, 
and of indispensable obligation ; not the creature of 
will, but necessary and immutable ; not local or tem- 
porary, but of equal extent and antiquity with the 
Divine Mind ; not a mode of sensation, but ever- 
lasting Truth; not dependent on power, but the 
guide of all power. Virtue is the foundation of 
honour and esteem, and the source of all beauty, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJIUEL KOGERS. 

order, and happiness in nature. It is wliat confers 
value on all the other endowments and qualities of 
a reasonable being, to which they ought to be ab- 
solutely subservient, and without which, the more 
eminent they are, the more hideous deformities and 
the greater curses they become. The use of it is 
not confined to any jne stage of our existence, or 
to any particular situation we can be in, but reaches 
through all the periods and circumstances of our 
being. — Many of the endowments and talents we 
now possess, and of which we are too apt to be 
proud, will cease entirely with the present state; 
but this will be our ornament and dignity in every 
future state to which we may be removed. Beauty 
and wit will die, learning will vanish away, and all 
the arts of life be soon forgot ; but virtue will re- 
main for ever. This unites us to the whole rational 
creation, and fits us for conversing with any order 
of superior natures, and for a place in any part of 
God's works. It procures us the approbation and 
love of all wise and good beings, and renders them 
our allies and friends. — But what is of unspeakably 
greater consequence is, that it makes God our friend, 
assimilates and unites our minds to his, and engages 



6 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

his almighty" power in onr defence. — Superior beings 
of all ranks are bound by it no less than ourselves. 
It has the same authority in all worlds that it has 
in this. The further any being is advanced in ex- 
cellence and ]3erfection, the greater is his attach- 
ment to it, and the more lie is under its influence. — 
To say no more ; it is the Law of the whole uni- 
verse \ it stands first in the estimation of the Deity ; 
its original is his nature ; and it is the very object 
that makes him lovely. 

"Such is the importance of virtue. — Of what 
consequence, therefore, is it that we practise it ! — 
There is no argument or motive which is at all fitted 
to influence a reasonable mind, which does not call 
us to this. One virtuous disposition of soul is pre- 
ferable to the greatest natural accomplishments and 
abilities, and of more value than all the treasures 
of the world. — If you are wise, then, study virtue, 
and contemn every thing that can come in compe- 
tition with it. Remember, that nothing else de- 
serves one anxious thought or wish. Remember, 
that this alone is honour, glory, wealth and happi- 
ness. Secure this, and you secure every thing, 
lose this, and all is lost."] 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 7 

My father belonged originally to the Church of 
England ; but, soon after his marriage with my 
mother (a very handsome and very amiable woman), 
he withdrew from it at her persuasion, and became 
one of Dr. Price's hearers. 



When I was a school-boy, I wore, like other 
school-boys, a cocked hat ; — we used to run about 
the fields, chasing butterflies, in cocked hats. Af- 
ter growing up, I have walked through St. Paul's 
Churchyard in a cocked hat. 



I saw Garrick act only once, — the part of Ranger 
in The SusjpiGioiis Husband. I remember that there 
was a great crowd, and that we waited long in a 
dark passage of the theatre, on our way to the pit. 
I was then a little boy. My father had promised to 
take me to see Garrick in Lear ; but a fit of the 
mumps kept me at home. 

Before his going abroad, Garrick's attractions 
had much decreased ; Sir William Weller Pepys said 
that the pit was often almost empty. But on his 



KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 



return to England, people were mad about seeing 
him ; and Sir George Beaumont and several others 
used frequently to get admission into the pit, before 
the doors were opened to the public, by means of 
bribing the attendants, who bade them " be sure, as 
soon as the crowd rushed in, to pretend to be in a 
great heat, and to wipe their faces as if they had 
just been struggling for entrance." 

Jack Bannister told me, that one night he was 
behind the scenes of the theatre when Garrick was 
playing Lear ; and that the tones in which Garrick 
uttered the words, " O fool, I shall go mad ! " * ab- 
solutely thrilled him. 

Garrick used to pay an annual visit to Lord Spen- 
cer at Althorp ; where, after tea, he generally enter- 
tained the company by reading scenes from Shake 
speare. Tliomas Grenville,t who met him there, 
told me that Garrick would steal anxious glances at 

* " You think I'll weep ; 

No, I'll not weep. 

1 have full cause of weeping ; but this heart 
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws 
Or ere I'll weep. — Ofool, I shall go mad ! " 

King Lear, act. ii. so. 4. — Ed. 

t The Right Honourable T. G.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SA3IUEL ROGERS. 9 

the faces of his audience, to perceive what effect his 
reading produced ; that, one night, Garrick observed 
a lady listening to him very attentively, and yet 
never moving a muscle of her countenance ; and, 
that, speaking of her next day, he said, " She seems 
a very worthy person ; but I hope that — that — that 
she won't be present at my reading to-night." — Ano- 
ther evening at Althorp, when Garrick was about 
to exhibit some particular stage-effect of which they 
had been talking, a young gentleman got up and 
placed the candles upon the floor, that the light 
might be thrown on his face as from the lamps in 
the theatre. Garrick, displeased at his officious- 
ness, immediately sat down again. 



My friend Maltby * and I, when we were very 
young men, had a strong desire to see Dr. Johnson ; 
and we determined to call upon him and introduce 
ourselves. We accordingly proceeded to his house 
in Bolt Court ; and I had my hand on the knocker, 
when our courage failed us, and we retreated. Many 
years afterwards, I mentioned this circumstance to 

* See notice at the commencement of the Porsoniana in this vol. 
—Ed, 

1* 



10 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Boswell, wlio said, " What a pity that you did not 
go boldly in ! he would have received you with all 
kindness." 

Dr. Johnson said to an acquaintance of mine, " My 
other works are wine and water ; but my Hamhlcr 
is pure wine." The world now thinks differently. 

Lady Spencer recollected Johnson well, as she 
used to see him often in her girlhood. Her mother, 
Lady Lucan, would say, " Nobody dines with us 
to-day ; therefore, child, we'll go and get Dr. John- 
son." So they would drive to Bolt Court, and bring 
the doctor home with them. 



At the sale of Dr. Johnson's books, I met Gene- 
ral Oglethorpe, then very, very old, the flesh of his 
face looking like parchment. He amused us young- 
sters by talking of the alterations that had been 
made in London and of the great additions it had 
received within his recollection. He said that he 
had shot snipes in Conduit-Street ! 

By the by, General Fitzpatrick remembered the 
time when St. James's Street used to be crowded 
with the carriages of the ladies and gentlemen who 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 11 

were walking in tlie Mall, — the ladies with their 
heads in full dress, and the gentlemen carrying their 
hats under their arms. The proprietors of Eanelagh 
and Yauxhall used to send decoy-ducks among tliera, 
that is, persons attired in the height of fashion, who 
every now and then would exclaim in a very audi- 
ble tone, " What charming weather for Ranelagh " 
or " for Yauxhall ! " 

Ranelagh was a very pleasing place of amuse- 
ment. There persons of inferior rank mingled with 
the highest nobility of Britain. All was so orderly 
and still, that you could hear the whiahing sound of 
the ladies' trains, as the immense assembly walked 
round and round the room. If you chose, you might 
have tea, which was served up in the neatest equi- 
page possible. The price of admission w^as half-a- 
crown. People generally went to Ranelagh between 
nine and ten o'clock. 



My first attempt at authorship was a series of 
papers headed The Scribhler, * which appeared in 

* The Scribbler extends to eight Numbers — in The Gentleman's 
Magazine for 1781, pp. 68, 119, 168, 218, 259, 306, 355, 405 (mis- 



12 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

The Gentleman^ s Magazine, — for what year I forget 
I have never looked at them since : I daresay they 
are sad trash. 

[" THE SCEIBBLEK. NO. IV. 

" Temporal Mores ! 

"The degeneracy of the age has ever been the 
favourite theme of declamation : yet, when the sub- 
ject has been attentively examined, the Moderns 
will not appear inferior to the Ancients. 

" Greece and Rome shine with peculiar lustre in 
the page of history. The former contained several 
states, the principal of which were Lacedeemon and 
Athens. 

" Devoted entirely to w^ar, the Spartans were 
brave, frugal, and temperate ; but divested of every 
sentiment of humanity. The reduction of Athens 
and the capture of Cadmea, the execution of Agis 
and the barbarity exercised on the Helotes, reflect 
indelible disgrace on the annals of Lacedsemon. 

paged 409), (several of the references to which in The General Index 
to that work are wrong). The first Number is signed " S***** 
R*****." These juvenile essays are on various subjects, and quite 
up to the standard of the periodical writing of the time. I have given, 
as a curiosity. No. 4 entire. — Ed, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAlVnJEL ROGERS. 13 

" With a delicate taste and a fine imagination, 
the Athenians were vain, inconstant, and irresolute. 
K no nation ever produced more great men, no 
nation ever behaved to them witli such ingratitude. 
Miltiades died in i3rison ; Aristides, Themistocles, 
and Cimon, were banished ; Socrates and Phocion 
were condemned to suiFer death. The I'est of Greece 
does not present a scene more honourable to human 
nature. 

" Individuals appeared among the Romans who 
merit the highest encomiums. Tlieir national char- 
acter, however, was haughty and oppressive. The 
destruction of Carthage and I^Tumantia, the murder 
of the Gracchi, their injustice to the Aricians and 
the Ardeates, their triumphs and their gladiatorial 
combats, sully the glory they acquired from their 
patriotism, moderation, and valour. 

" Such were the Ancients ; while they cultivated 
the severer, they neglected the milder virtues ; and 
were more ambitious of exciting the admiration than 
of deserving the esteem of posterity. 

"Examples of heroic virtue cannot occur so 
frequently among the Moderns as the Ancients, from 
the nature of their political institutions ; yet Eng- 



14 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

land, Holland, and Switzerland, are entitled to 
greater af)planse than the celebrated i'e]3ublics of 
antiquity. 

" Generosity, sincerity, and a love of indepen- 
dence, are the characteristics of the English, No 
nation had ever juster ideas of liberty, or fixed it 
on a firmer basis. They have concerted innumera- 
ble establishments in favour of the indigent, and have 
even frequently raised subscriptions for the relief 
of their enemies, when reduced to captivity. Their 
conduct indeed in India has been excessively unjust. 
ISTor can this appear surprising to those who reflect, 
that India is under the direction of a commercial 
society, conducted by its members in a distant 
country ; and that its climate is fatal to the consti- 
tutions of the Europeans, who visit it only with the 
design of suddenly amassing wealth, and are anxious 
to return as soon as that design is accomplished. 

" Holland, however circumscribed in its extent, 
has acquired liberty by a war of above half a cen- 
tury, and risen to the highest rank among the powders 
of Europe. Though the Dutch are universally en- 
gaged in lucrative pursuits, neither their sentiments 
are contracted, nor their ideas confined. They have 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGERS. 15 

erected edifices in wliicli age may repose, and sick- 
ness be relieved ; and have often liberally contri- 
buted to the support of the persecuted. The de- 
struction of the De"Witts was entirely the result of 
a momentary passion. 

" Sheltered within the fastnesses of their native 
mountains, the Swiss look down with security on the 
revolutions around them. Though never actuated 
with the spirit of conquest, they have exhibited acts 
of the most exalted heroism in defence of their 
country. Industrious, yet liberal ; simple, yet en- 
lightened ; their taste is not vitiated, nor their man- 
ners corrupted, by the refinements of luxury. 

" That the Moderns are not inferior to the An- 
cients in virtue, is obvious therefore on a review of 
the nations that have acted with most honour in the 
grand theatre of the world. The present mode of 
conducting war, not to mention any other instance, 
is the most humane and judicious that has yet been 
adopted. 

" Let us not then depreciate the Moderns. Let 
us admire, let us imitate, what is laudable in anti- 
quity, but be just to the merits of our cotempora- 
ries." ] 



16 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

The first poetry I j^ublished was the Ode to Su 
perstition^ in 1786. I wrote it while I was in my 
teens, and afterwards touched it up.* I paid dowL 
to the publisher thirty pounds to insure him from 
being a loser by it. At the end of four years, I found 
that he had sold about twenty copies. However, 1 
was consoled by reading in a critique on the Ode 
that I was " an able writer," or some such expres- 
sion. — ^The short copy of verses entitled Captivity 
was also composed when I was a very young man. 
It was a favourite with Hookham Frere, who said 
that it resembled a Greek epigram. 

My lines To the Gnat, which some of the re- 
\dewers laughed at, were comj)osed in consequence 
of my sufferings from the attacks of that insect 
while I lived at N^ewington Green. My e^^es used to 
be absolutely swollen up with gnat-bites. I awoke 
one morning in that condition when I was engaged 
to spend the day at Streatham with Mr. and Mrs. 
Piozzi, to meet Miss Farren (afterwards Lady Derby) ; 
and it was only by the application of laudanum to 
my wounds that I was enabled to keep my engage- 

* Accordiiipj to a note in Mr. R.'s collected poems, it was " writ- 
ten in 1785."— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEKS. 17 

ment. Nothing could exceed the elegance and re- 
finement of Miss Farren's appearance and manners. 

Peojjle have taken the trouble to write my Life 
more than once ; and strange assertions thej have 
made both about myself and my works. In one 
biographical account it is stated that I submitted 
The Pleasures of Memory in manuscript to the crit- 
ical revision of Richard Sharp : now, when that 
poem was first published, I had not yet formed an 
acquaintance with Sharp (who was introduced to 
me by the oldest of my friends, Maltby*). The 
beautiful lines, " Pleasm-es of Memory ! — oh, su- 
premely blest," &c., which I have inserted in a note 
on Part Second, were composed by a Mr. Soame, f 
who died in India in 1803, at which time he was a 
lieutenant in the dragoons. I believe that he de- 
stroyed himself. I had heard that the lines were in 
a certain newspaper, and went to Peel's Coffee-house 
to see that paper : there I first read them, and there 
I transcribed them. 

On the publication of The Pleasures of Memory^ 
I sent a copy to Mason, who never acknowledged it. 

* See notice at the commencement of the Porsmikina in this voL 
— Ed. 

+ See The Correspondence of Sir T. Hanmer, &c. p. 481. — Ed. 



18 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

I learned, however, from Gilpin, and to my great 
satisfaction, that Mason, in a letter to him, had 
spoken well of it ; — he pronounced it to be very 
different in style from the j)oetry of the day. 

During my whole life I have borne in mind the 
speech of a woman to Philip of Macedon ; " I appeal 
from Philip drunk to Philip sober." After writing 
any thing in the excitement of the moment, and 
being greatly pleased with it, I have always put it 
by for a day or two ; and then carefully considering 
it in every possible light, I have altered it to the best 
of my judgment ; thus aj)pealing from myself drunk 
to myself sober. I was engaged on The Pleasures 
of Memory for nine years ; on Human Life for 
nearly the same space of time ; and Italy was not 
completed in less than sixteen years.* 



I was present when Sir Joshua Reynolds delivered 

* I was with Mr. Rogers when he tore to pieces, and threw into 
the fire, a manuscript operatic drama, The Vintage of Burgundy, 
which he had written early in life. He told me that he offered it 
to a manager, who said, "I will bring it on the stage, if you are 
determined to have it acted ; hut it tcill ceHainlij be damned." One or 
two songs, which now appear among his poems, formed parts of that 
drama. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 19 

his last lecture at the Royal Academy. On entering 
the room, I found that a semicircle of chairs, im- 
mediately in front of the pulpit, was reserved for 
persons of distinction, being labelled " Mr. Burke," 
''Mr. Boswell," &c. &c. ; and I, with other young- 
men, was forced to station myself a good way off. 
During the lecture, a great crash was heard ; and 
the company, fearing that the building was about 
to come down, rushed towards the door. Presently, 
however, it appeared that there was no cause for 
alarm ; * and they endeavoured to resume their 
places ; but, in consequence of the confusion, the re- 
served seats were now occupied by those who could 
iirst get into them : and I, pressing forwards, secured 
one of them. Sir Joshua concluded the lecture by 
saying, with great emotion, " And I should desire 
that the last words which I should pronounce in this 
Academy and from this place might be the name of — 
Michael Angelo." As he descended from the ros- 
trum, Burke went up to him, took his hand, and said, 

* There teas cause for alarm. " On an examination of the floor 
afterwards, it was found that one of the heams 'or its support had 
actually given way from the great weight of the assembly of persons 
who pressed upon it, and probably from a flaw also in the wood." 
Northcote's Life of Reynolds, ii. 263, ed. 1819.— Ed. 



20 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

' The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear 
So charming left his voice, that he a while 
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear." * 

What a quantity of siiuff Sir Josliua took ! I 
once saw Mm at an Academy-dinner, when his v/aist- 
coat was absolutely powdered with it. 

Sir Joshua was always thinking of his art. He 
was one day walking with Dr. Lawrence near Bea- 
consfield, Avhen they met a beautiful little peasant- 
boy. Sir Joshua, after looking earnestly at the 
child, exclaimed, " I must go home and deepen the 
colouring of my Infant Hercules.'''' The boy was a 
good deal sun-burnt. 

Count d'Adhemar was the original purchaser of 
Sir Joshua's Mxiscijpula. Sir Joshua, Avho fancied 
that he was bargaining for a different and less im- 
portant picture, told him that the price was fifty 
guineas ; and on discovering the mistake, allowed 
him to have Muscijpida for that sum. — ^Fox had 
been anxious to possess Muscipula when it was first 
painted ; and he bought it at the Ambassador's sale 
for (I believe) fifty guineas. It is now at St. Anne's 

* Par. Lost, b. viii. 1. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 21 

Hill. It would fetch, at the present clay, a thousand 
guineas. 

The morning of the day on which Sir Joshua's 
Puck was to be sold. Lord Farnborough and Dance 
the painter breakfasted with me ; and we went to 
the sale together. When Puck was put up, it ex- 
cited such admiration, that there was a general 
clapping of hands : yet it was knocked down to me 
at a comparatively trifling price." I walked home 
from the sale, a man carrying /*wc/^ before me ; and 
BO well was the picture known, that more than one 
person, as they passed us in the street, called out, 
"There it is!" 

I like I^orthcote's Life of Sir Joshua :-\ it may 

* "When the Shakespeare Gallery was disposed of by lottery, 
the building itself, and many of the capital pictures, formed the prin- 
cipal prize, which was won by Mr. Tassie of Leicester Square, who, 
after showing it a few months, divided the property into several lots, 
and sold them by auction. In that sale the pictures of Sir Joshua 
produced the following sums, which are here contrasted with the prices 
paid to Sir Joshua by Mr. Boydell : 

Prices paid to Sir Joshua by Prices for which they sold by 
Mr. Boydell. auction. 

Puck or Robin Good FeUow, 

100 guineas. £215 5s 0." 

Edwards's Anecdotes of Painters, &c. p. 204. 
t Northcote assured the writer of these pages that Laird, not 



22 RECOLLECTIONS OP THE 

be depended upon for facts ; and, of course, Koi'tli- 
cote was a very competent critic in painting, 

I can hardly believe what was told me long ago 
by a gentleman living in the Temple, who, however, 
assured me that it was fact. He happened to be 
passing by Sir Joshua's house in Leicester Square, 
when he saw a poor girl seated on the steps and 
crying bitterly. He asked Avhat was the matter ; 
and she replied that she was crying " because the 
one shilling which she had received from Sir Joshua 
for sitting to him as a model, had proved to be a 
bad one, and he would not give her anotlier." 



I recollect when it was still the fashion for gen- 
tlemen to wear swords. I have seen Haydn pla\ 
at a concert in a tie-wig, with a sword at his side. 



The head-dresses of the ladies, during ]ny youth, 
were of a truly preposterous size. I have gone to 

himself, procured the greater part of the materials for the Life of Sir 
.I'oshua, and put them together ; his own part was small, and confined 
L'hiefly to criticism on art and artists." Prior's Life of Goldsmith, vol. 
ii. 572.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 23 

E.anelagh in a coach with a lady who was obliged 
to sit upon a stool placed in the bottom of the 
coach, the height of her head-dress not allowing her 
to occupy the regular seat. 

Their tight lacing was equally absurd. Lady 
Crewe told me, that, on returning home from Rane- 
lagh, she has rushed up to her bed-room, and de- 
sired her maid to cut her laces without a moment's 
delay, for fear she should faint. 



Dr. Fordyce sometimes drank a good deal at 
dinner. He was summoned one evening to see a 
lady patient, when he was more than half-seas-over, 
and conscious that he was so. Feeling her pulse, 
and finding himself unable to count its beats, he/ 
muttered, "Drmdc, by God ! " ISText morning, re- 1 
collecting the circumstance, he was greatly vexed : 
and just as he was thinking what explanation of his 
behaviour he should offer to the lady, a letter from 
her was put into his hand. "She too well knew," 
said the letter, " that he had discovered the unfor- 
tunate condition in which she was when he last 
visited her ; and she entreated him to keep the mat- 



24 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

ter secret in consideration of the enclosed (a liun- 
dred-pound bank-note)." 



I have several times talked to a very aged boat- 
man on the Thames, who recollected "Mr. Alex- 
ander Pope." This boatman, when a lad, had fre- 
quently assisted his father in rowing Pope up and 
down the river. On such occasions Pope generally 
sat in a sedan-chair. 

When I first began to publish, I got acquainted 
with an elderly person named Lawless,* shopman of 
Messrs. Cadell and Davies the booksellers. Lawless 
told me, that he was once walking through Twick- 
enham, accompanied by a friend, and a little boy the 
son of that friend. On the approach of a very dimi- 
nutive, misshapen, and shabbily-dressed person, the 
child drew back half-afraid. "Don't be alarmed," 

* This Lawless (as I was informed by Mr. Maltby — see notice 
prefixed to the Porsoniana, in this vol.) used daily to eat his dinner in 
the shop, placing a large folio before him so as to conceal his jjlate. 
Often, to his great annoyance, just as he was beginning his meal. 
Gibbon would drop in, and ask a variety of questions about books. 
One day, Lawless, out of all patience at the interruption, exclaimed 
from behind the folio, " Mr. Gibbon, I'm at dinner, and can't answer 
any iiuestions till I have finished it." — Ed, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGERS. 25 

said Lawless; " it is only a poor man." — "A poor 
man ! " cried his friend ; " why, that is Mr. Alexan- 
der Pope." 

Lawless also told me that he had been intimate 
with the waiting-maid of Pope's beloved Martha 
Blount. According to the maid's account, her mis- 
tress was one of the best natnred and kindest per- 
sons possible : she would take her out m the car- 
riage to see sights, &c. &c. 

Long ago, when Pope's villa was for sale, I had 
a great wish to buy it ; but I apprehended that it 
would fetch a much larger sum than it did ; and 
moreover I dreaded the epigrams, &c., which would 
certainly have been levelled at me, if it had become 
mine. — ^Tlie other day, when the villa was finally 
dismantled, I was anxious that the obelisk erected 
by Pope to his mother's memory should be placed 
in the Gardens at Hampton Court, and I offered to 
contribute my mite for that purpose : — but, no ! — 
and the obelisk is now at GojDsall, Lord Howe's seat 
in Leicestershire. 

There are at Lord Bathurst's a good many un- 
published letters of Pope, Bolingbroke, &c., which I 
have turned over. In one of them Bolingbrokt* says 



26 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

that he has no desire to " wrestle with a chimney- 
sweeper," that is, Warburton. — Lady Bathurst pro- 
mised to send me some of Pope's letters ; instead of 
which, she sent me a packet of letters from Queen 
Mary to King William, in which he is addressed as 
her " dear husba/i." * 

In Pope's noble lines To the Earl of Oxford^ 
prefixed to ParnelVs Poems, there is an impropriety 
which was forced upon the poet by the rhyme : 

The Muse attends thee to thy silent shade ; 
******* 

She waits, or to the scaffold or the cell^ 

When the last lingering friend has bid farewell." 

It should be, of course, " or to the cell or the scaf- 
fold." 

* " Lord Bathurst has lent me a very entertaining collection of 
original letters, from Pope, Bolingbroke, Swift, Queen Mary, &c., 
and has promised to make me a present of any thing I like out of 
them. I cannot say these communications have given me a very 
great idea of Queen Mary's head; but her heart, I am persuaded, 
was a very good one. The defect must have been in her educa- 
tion; for such spelling and such English I never saw; romantic 
and childish too, as to sentiment. My reverence for her many 
virtues leads me to hope she was very young when she wrote 
them." Letter of Hannah More, in her Memoirs, &c. vol. i. .'558, 
third ed. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. 27 

Pope has sometimes a beautiful line rhyming 
to a very indifferent one. For instance, in the 
Epistle to Jervas, 

" Alas, how little from the grave we claim ! 
Thou but preserv'st a face, and I a name • " 

the latter line is very good : in the former, " claim" 
is forced and bad ; it should have been " save " or 
"preserve." Again, in the Elegy to the Ifemory of 
an Unfortunate Lady, 

" A heap of dust alone remains of thee ; 
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be," 

the former line is touching, the latter bad. 

"What a charming line is that in The JRape of the 
Lock ! 

" If to her share some female errors fall, 

Looh on her face^ and you'll forget them all." 

These verses in his Imitation of the Second 
Epistle of the Second Boole of Horace (verses which 
Lord Holland is so fond of hearing me repeat) are 
as good as any in Horace himself; 

" Years following years, steal something every day, 
At last they steal us from ourselves away ; 



28 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

In one our frolics, one amusements end, 
In one a mistress drops, in one a friend." 

But perhaps the best line Pope ever wrote is in 
his Imitation of the First Satire of the Second Booh 
of Horace ; 

" Bare the mean heart that kirks beneath a star." 

Tlie want of pauses is the main blemish in 
Pope's versification: I can't recollect at this mo- 
ment anj pause he has, except that in his fine Pro- 
logue to Goto ; 

" The trmmph ceas'd ; tears gushed from ev'ry eye ; 
The world's great victor pass'd unheeded by." 

People are now so fond of the obscure in poetry, 
that they can perceive no deejp thinking in that dar- 
ling man Pope, because he always expresses him- 
self with such admirable clearness. 

My father used to recommend Pope's Homer to 
me : but, with all my love of Pope, I never could 
like it. (I delight in Cowper's Hoiner / I have read 
it again and again*). 

* Thomas Campbell once told me how greatly he admired Cow- 
per's Homer: he said that he used to read it to his wife, who was 
moved even to tears by some passages of it. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJMTJEL KOGEES. 29 

Tlie article on Pope in the Quarterly Review * 
was certainly touched up by Gifford : in some 
places it is beyond the powers of D'Israeli. 



Pope is not to be compared to Dryden for varied 
harmony of versification ; nor for ease ; — how natu- 
rally the words follow each other in this couplet of 
Dryden's in the Second Part of Absalom and Achi- 
tophel ! 

" The midwife laid ber hand on his thick skull, 
With this prophetic blessing — Be tliou dull!^^ 

and in that touching one in his Epistle to Congreve, 

" Be kind to my remains ; and, O defend, 
Against your judgment, your departed friend ! " 

Dryden's Virgil is, on the whole, a failure ; but 
I am not sure that it does not exhibit the best speci- 
mens of his versification : in that work he had not 
to tax his invention ; he had only to think of the 
expression and versification. It contains one thing, 
in the supplication of Turnus to ^neas, which is 
finer than the original ; 

* Vol. xxiii. 400.— Ed. 



30 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

" Yet think, 0, think, if mercy may be shown, — 
Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son, — 
Pity my sire," &c. 

Virgil's words are : 

" Miseri te si qua parentis 
Tangere cura potest, oro, — fuit et tibi talis 
Anchises genitor, — Dauni miserere senectse," &c.'' 



I sometimes wonder f how a man can ever be 
cheerful, when he knows that he must die. But 
what poets write about the horrors of the grave 
makes not the slightest impression upon me ; for 
instance, what Dryden says ; 

" Vain men ! how vanishing a bliss we crave ! 
Now warm in love, now withering in the grave ! 
Never, O, never more, to see the sun. 
Still dark, in a damp vault, and still alone ! " t 

* ^n. xii. 932.— Ed. 

f Mr. Rogers once made the same remark to Mr. Lnttrell, who 
versified it as follows : 

" death, thy certainty is such 
And thou'rt a thing so fearful, 
That, musing, I have wonder'd much 
How men were ever cheerful." — Ed. 

X Patanum and Arcite, b. iii. — Ed. 



TABLE-TAJLK OF SAMUEL K0GEK8. 31 

All this is unpliilosophical ; in fact, nonsense. 
The body, when the soul ha-s left it, is as worthless 
as an old garment, — rather more so, for it rots much 
sooner. The lines of Dry den which I have just 
quoted (and which are modernised from Chaucer) 
were great favourites with Sheridan ; I seem now 
to hear him reciting them 



Sir George Beaumont once met Quin at a very 
small dinner-j)arty. There was a delicious pudding, 
which the master of the house, pushing the dish to- 
wards Quin, begged him to taste. A gentleman 
had just before helped himself to an immense piece 
of it. " Pray," said Quin, looking first at the gen- 
tleman's plate and then at the dish, " which is the 
pudding ! " 

Sir George Beaumont, when a young man, was 
one day in the Mount (a famous coffee-house in 
Mount Street, Grosvenor Square) with Harvey 
Aston. Yarious persons were seated at different 
tables. Among others present, there was an Irish- 
man who was very celebrated as a duellist, having 
killed at least half-a-dozen antagonists. Aston, 



32 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

talking to some of his acquaintance, swore that he 
would make the duellist stand barefooted before 
them. " You had better take care what you say," 
they replied ; " he has his eye upon you." — "No mat- 
ter," rejoined Aston ; "I declare again that he shall 
stand barefooted before you, if you will make up 
among you a purse of fifty guineas." Tliey did so. 
Aston then said in a loud voice, " I have been in Ire- 
land, and am well acquainted with the natives." The 
Irishman was all ear. Aston went on, " The Irish, 
being born in bogs, are every one of them web- 
footed ; I know it for a fact." — " Sir," roared the 
duellist, starting up from his table, " it is false ! " 
Aston persisted in his assertion. " Sir," cried the 
other," /was born in Ireland; and I will prove to 
you that it is a falsehood." So saying, in great haste 
he pulled off his shoes and stockings, and disj)layed 
his bare feet. The joke ended in Aston's sharing 
the purse between the L'ishman and himself, giving 
the former thirty guineas, and keeping twenty. Sir 
George assured me that this was a true story.* 

* A similar story is related of the Irishman from whom Mack- 
lin took the idea of Sir Callaghan O'Brallaghan (in Love a la 
Mode). Macklin professing his belief that he, like other Irishmen, 
■jiust have a tail, "he instantly pulled off his coat and waistcoat, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 33 

Aston was always kicking up disturbances. I 
remember being at Ranelagh, with my father and 
mother, when we beard a great row, and were told 
that it was occasioned by Aston. 

If I mistake not, Aston fought two duels in 
India on two successive days, and fell in the second 
one.* 



Tliat beautiful view of Conway Castle [in Mr. 
Rogers's dining-room] was ]3ainted by Sir George 
Beaumont, who presented it to me as a memorial of 
our having been originally introduced to each other 
in its ruins. — Sir George and I were always excellent 
friends. The morning after I arrived at Yenice (on 
my first visit to Italy), I was looking out at the 

to convince him of his mistake, assuring him ' that no Irishman, in 

that respect, waj better than another man.'" Cooke's Memoirs of 

MacMin, p. 225.— Ed. 

* " 1798, Dec. 23. At Madras, in consequence of a wound he 

received in a duel with Major Allen, of which he languished about 

a week. Col. Harvey Aston. He had been engaged in a similar 

affair of honour, and on the same account, with Major Picton, only 

the day preceding that on which he met Major A., but which was 

fortunately terminated by each party firing in the air, and a proper 

explanation taking place as to the oflfence." GeTitleman's Magazine, 

vol. Ixix. P. 1, p. 527. — Aston had fought f duel in 1790 with Lieut. 

Fitzgerald, and was severely wounded See Haydn's Diet, of Dates, 

sub DuMing, — Ed. 
2* 



84 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

window, when I saAV a gentleman and a lady land 
at my lodging from a gondola : they were Sir George 
and Lady Beaumont. The meeting was delightful : 
—even now, I think of it with pleasure. 



In my youthful days Young's I^ight- Thoughts 
was a very favourite book, especially with ladies : 
I knew more than one lady who had a copy of it in 
which particular passages were marked for her by 
some popular preacher. 

Young's poem The Last Day contains, amidst 
much absurdity, several very fine lines : what an 
enormous thought is this ! — 

"Those overwhelming armies, whose command 
Said to one empire ' Fall,' another ' Stand,' 
Whose rear lay rapt in nighty while IreaMng davm 
Hous'd the 'broad front^ and caWd the battle on.''''* 



At Brighton, during my youth, I became ac- 
quainted with a lawyer -who had known Gray. He 



* Book ii. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJVIUEL KOGKRS. 35 

said that Gray's pronunciation was very affected, 
e. g. " What naise (noise) is that ? " 

Henley (the translator of Beckford's Vatheh) was 
one morning paying a visit to Gray, when a dog 
came into the room. "Is that yom* dog?" said 
Henley. " No," replied Gray : " do you suppose 
that I would keep an animal hy which I might pos- 
sibly lose my life f " 

I was a mere lad when Mason's Gray was pub- 
lished. I read it in my young days with delight, 
and have done so ever since : the letters have for 
me an inexpressible charm ; they are as witty as 
Walpole's, and have, what his want, true wisdom. 
I used to take a pocket edition of Gray's Poems 
■ with me every morning during my walks to town 
to my father's banking-house, where I was a clerk, 
and read them by the way. I can repeat them all. 

I do envy Gray these lines in his Ode on a dis- 
tant prospect of Eton College / 

" Still as they run, they look behind, 
They hear a voice in every wind, 
And snatch a fearful joyP 

But what immediately follows is not good ; 



36 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

" Gay Hope is theirs, by Fancy fed, 

Less pleasing when possess' d : " 

we cannot be said to possess hope.* — How strange 
it is that, with all Gray's care in composition, the 
word "shade" should occur three times in the 
course of the eleven first lines of that ode ! — 

" Her Henry's holy shaded 

" Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among." 

" Ah happy hills, ah pleasing shade ! " 

Both Fox and Courtenay thought Gray's frag- 
ment, The Alliance of Education and Government, 
his finest poem : but that was because they pre- 
ferred the heroic couplet to every other kind of 
verse. A celebrated passage in it, — 

" Oft o'er the trembling nations from afar 
Has Scythia breath'd the living cloud of war ; 
And, where the deluge burst with sweepy sway. 
Their arms, their kings, their gods were roU'd away. 
As oft have issu'd, host impelling host. 
The blue-ey'd myriads from the Baltic coast : 

* His friend Wakefield had anticipated Mr. Rogers in the above 
remark: "Though the object of liope may truly be said to be less 
pleadng in possession than in the fanq/ ; yet Hope in person cannot 
possibly be possessed" &c. Note ad 1. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 37 

The prostrate south to the destroyer yields 
Her boasted titles and her golden fields ; 
With grim delight the brood of winter view 
A brighter day and heavens of azure hue, 
Scent the new fragrance of the Iweathing rose, 
And quaff the pendent vintage as it grows," — 

is a good deal injured by the forced and unnatural 
expression, "pendent vintage."* 

I once read Gray's Ode to Adversity to Words- 
worth ; and at the line, — 

" And leave us leisure to be good," — 

Wordsworth exclaimed, " I am quite sure that is 
not original ; Gray could not have hit upon it." f 

The stanza which Gray threw out of his Elegy 
is better than some of the stanzas he has retained : 

" There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year. 

By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; 
The redbreast loves to build and warble there, 
And little footsteps lightly print the ground." 

* For this expression Gray was indebted to Virgil ; 
" Non eadem arboribus pendet vindemia nostris 
Quam MethymnEeo carpit de palmite Lesbos." 

Georg. ii. 89.— Ed. 
t The Rev. J. Mitford, in his ed. of Gray, cites ad 1., 
" And know, I have not yet the leisure to he good." 

Oldham, Ode, st. 5— Fbrfo, i. 85, ed. 1722.— Ed. 



38 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

I believe few people know, what is certainly a 
fact, that the Madeane who was hanged for rob- 
bery, and who is mentioned in Grray's Long Story ^ — 

" He stood as mute as poor Madeane,^'' 

was brother to Madaines the translator of Mosheim. 
Gray somewhere says that monosyllables should 
be avoided in poetry : but there are many lines con- 
sisting only of monosyllables, which could not pos- 
sibly be improved. For instance, in Shakespeare's 
Romeo and Juliet^ — 

" Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel ; " * 

and in Pope's Eloisa to Abelard^ — ■ 

"Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be prest; 
Give all thou canst, and let me dream the rest." 



Matthias showed me the papers belonging to 
Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, which he had bor- 
rowed for his edition of Gray / and among them 
were several very indecent poems by Gray's friend 
West, in whose day it was the fashion for young 
men to write in that style. If West had lived, he 

* Act iii. sc. 3. — Ed. 



TABLE-TA1,K OF SAMUEL KOGEKS. 39 

would have been no mean poet : he has left some 
lines which are certainly among the happiest imita- 
tions of Pope ; 

" How weak is man to reason's judging eye ! 
Born in this moment, in the next we die ; 
Part mortal clay, and part ethereal fire, 
Too proud to creep, too humble to aspire," * 



When I was at Nuneham, I read Mason's manu- 
script letters to Lord Harcourt, which contain no- 
thing to render them worth printing. They evince 
the excessive deference which Mason showed to 
Gray, — " Mr. Gray's opinion " being frequently 
quoted. There is in them a very gross passage 
about Lady M. W. Montagu. 

Mason's poetry is, on the whole, stiff and tiresome. 
His best line is in the JElegy on Lady Covent/ry / 

" Yes, Coventry is dead. Attend the strain, 
Daughters of Albion ! ye that, light as air, 
So oft have tripp'd in her fantastic train, 

With hearts as gay, and faces half as fairP 



* See Mason's Gray^ p. 20, ed. 4to. — Ed. 



4:0 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Topham Beauclerk (Johnson's friend) was a 
strangely absent person. One day lie had a party 
coming to dinner ; and, just before their amval, he 
went up stairs to change his dress. He forgot all 
about them ; thought that it was bed-time, pulled 
off his clothes, and got into bed. A servant, who 
presently entered the room to tell him that his 
guests were waiting for him, found him fast asleep. 



I remember taking Seattle's Minstrel down from 
my father's shelves, on a fine summer evening, and 
reading it, for the first time, with such delight ! It 
still charms me (I mean the First Book ; the Second 
Book is very inferior). 



During my youth umbrellas were far from com- 
mon. At that time every gentleman's family had 
one urnbrella, — a huge thing, made of coarse cotton, 
— which used to be taken out with the carriage, and 
which, if there was rain, the footman held over the 
ladies' heads, as they entered, or alighted from, the 
carriage. 



TABLE-TAI.K OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 41 

My first visit to France was in company Avith 
Boddington, just before the Revolution began. 
Wlien we arrived at Calais, we saw both ladies and 
gentlemen walking on tbe pier with small fox-muffs. 
While we were dining there, a poor monk came into 
the room and asked us for charity ; and B, annoyed 
me much by saying to him, "II faut travailler." * 
The monk bowed meekly and withdrew, l^othing 
would satisfy B. but that we should ride on horse- 
back the first stage from Calais ; and accordingly, to 
the great amusement of the inn-keeper and cham- 
ber-maid, we were furnished with immense jack- 
boots and hoisted upon our steeds. When we 
reached Paris, Lafayette gave us a general invita- 
tion to dine with him every day. At his table we 
once dined with about a dozen persons (among them 
the Duke de la Kochefoucauld, Condorcet, &c.) 
most of whom afterwards came to an untimely end. 

At a dinner-party in Paris, given by a French 

* " But we distinguish, said I, laying my hand upon the sleeve 
of his [the Monk's] tunic, in return for his appeal — we distinguish, 
my good father, hetwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their 
own labour, and those who eat the hread of other people's, and have 
no other plan in life hut to get through it in sloth and ignorance, 
for the love of God." Sterne's Sentimental Journey. — Th^ Monk. — 
Ed. 



42 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

nobleman, I saw a black bottle of English porter 
Bet on the table as a great rarity, and drunk out of 
small glasses. 



Boddington bad a wretchedly bad memory ; 
and, in order to improve it, he attended Feinaigle's 
lectures on the Art of Memory. Soon after, some- 
body asked Boddington the name of the lecturer ; 
and, for his life, he could not recollect it. — Wlien 
I was asked if I had attended the said lectures on 
the Art of Memory, I replied, "l!^o: I wished to 
learn the Art of Forgetting." 



One morning, when I was a lad, Wilkes came 
into our banking-house to solicit my father's vote. 
My father happened to be out, and I, as his re- 
presentative, spoke to Wilkes. At parting, Wilkes 
shook hands with me ; and I felt prond of it for a 
week after. 

He was quite as ugly, and sq^^inted as much, as 
his portraits make him; but he was very gentle- 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 43 

manly in appearance and manners. I tliink I see 
him at this moment, walking throngh the crowded 
streets of the city, as Chamberlain, on his way to 
Guildhall, in a scarlet coat, military boots, and a 
bag-wig, — the hackney-coachmen in vain calling 
out to him, " A coach, your honour ? " 



Words are so twisted and tortured by some 
writers of the present day, that I am really sorry 
for them, — I mean, for the words. It is a favourite 
fancy of mine, that perhaps in the next world the 
use of words may be dispensed with, — that our 
thoughts may stream into each other's minds with- 
out any verbal communication. 



When a young man, I went to Edinburgh, car- 
rying letters of introduction (from Dr. Kippis, Dr. 
Price, &c.) to Adam Smith, Robertson, and others. 
When I first saw Smith, he was at breakfast, eating 
strawberries ; and he descanted on the superior 
flavour of those grown in Scotland.* I found him 

* Every Englishman wlio has tasted the strawberries of Scotland 
will allow that Smith was right. — Ed. 



44 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

very kind and communicative. He was (what 
Robertson was not) a man who had seen a great 
deal of the world. Once, in the course of conver- 
sation, I happened to remark of some writer, that 
" he was rather superficial, — a Yoltaire." — " Sir," 
cried Smith, striking the table with his hand, " there 
has been but one Voltaire ! " 

Robertson, too, was very kind to me. He, one 
morning, spread out the map of Scotland on the 
floor, and got upon his knees, to describe the route 
I ought to follow in making a tour on horseback 
through the Highlands. 

At Edinburgh I became acquainted with Henry 
Mackenzie, who asked me to correspond with him ; 
which I (then young, romantic, and an admirer of 
his Julia de Boubign^) willingly agreed to. We 
accordingly wrote to each other occasionally during 
several years ; but his letters, to my surprise and 
disappointment, were of the most common-place 
description. Yet his published writings display no 
ordinary talent ; and, like those of Beattie, they are 
remarkable for a pure English idiom, — which can- 
not be said of Hume's writings, beautiful as they are. 

The most memorable day perhaps which I ever 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 45 

passed was at Edinburgh, — a Sunday ; when, after 
breakfasting with Robertson, I heard him preach in 
the forenoon, and Blair in the afternoon, then took 
coffee witii the Piozzis, and supped with Adam 
Smith. Robertson's sermon was excellent both for 
matter and manner of delivery. Blair's was good, 
but less impressive ; and his broad Scotch accent 
offended my ears greatly. 

My acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi be- 
gan at Edinburgh, being brought about by the land- 
lord of the hotel where they and I were staying. 
He thought that I should be gratified by " hearing 
Mr. Piozzi's piano-forte : " and they called upon me, 
on learning from the landlord who I was, and that 
Adam Smith, Robertson, and Mackenzie had left 
cards for me. 

I was afterwards very intimate with the Piozzis, 
and visited them often at Streatham. The world 
was most unjust in blaming Mrs. Tlirale for marry- 
ing Piozzi : he was a very handsome, gentlemanly, 
and amiable person, and made her a very good hus- 
band. In the evening he used to play to us most 
beautifully on the piano. Her daughters never 
would see her after that marriage ; and (poor woman) 



46 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

when she was at a very great age, I have heard her 
say that " she would go down upon her knees to 
them, if they would only be reconciled to her." 



I never saw Burns : I was within thirty miles of 
Dumfries when he was living there ; and yet I did 
not go to visit him ; which I have regretted ever 
since. — I think his Cottm'''s Saturday-Niglit the 
finest pastoral in any language. 

How incapable of estimating Burns's genius 
were the worthy folks of Edinburgh ! Henry Mac- 
Jienzie (who ought to have known better) advised 
him to take for his model in song-writing — Mrs. 
John Hunter ! * 



Sir John Henry Moore, who died in his twenty- 
fom'th year, possessed considerable talent. His 
L'Ar^iour timide is very pretty. 

* As a writer of songs, Mrs. Hunter is, no doubt, immeasurably 
inferior to Burns : but her Clierokee Death-Song, and several other 
small pieces which she wrote for music, are far from contemptible : 
SOP her Popms, 1802. — En. 



TABLE-TAI.K OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 47 

[" V Amour timide. 
If in that breast, so good, so pure, 

Compassion ever lov'd to dwell, 
Pity the sorrows I endure ; 

The cause — I must not, dare not tell 

The grief that on my quiet preys — * 

That rends my heart — that checks my tongue,— 
I fear will last me all my days. 

But feel it will not last me long." ] 



Marivaux's f Marianne is a particular favourite 
with me : I have read it six times through ; and 1 
have shed tears over it, after I was seventy, — ^not 
so much at its pathos as at its generous senti- 
ments. 

* Mr. Rogers, I believe, was not aware that the second stanza is 
taken from Montreuil ; 

" Ne me demandez plus, Sylvie, 
Quel est le mal que je ressens. 
C'est un mal que j'auray tout le temps de ma vie, 
Mais je ne I'auray pas long-temps." 

(Eiivres, p. 602, ed. 1666.— Ed, 

\ At the Strawberry-HUl sale, Mr. Rogers's admiration of this 
writer induced him to purchase his picture — a miniature, by Liotard, 
which had been painted for Horaop Walpole. — En. 



48 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

The Abb6 Delille (whom I knew Avell and liked 
much) was of opinion that Marivaux's Paysan Par- 
venu was a greater literary effort than Maricmne. 

I once said to Delille, "Don't you think that 
Voltaire's vers de soci^t4 are the first of their kind? " 
He replied, " Assuredly ; the very jfirst, and — the 
last." 



Dr, Parr had a great deal of sensibility. "When 1 
read to him, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, the account of 
O'Coigly's* death, the tears rolled down his cheeks. 

One day, Mackintosh having vexed him by call- 
ing O'Coigly "a rascal," Parr immediately rejoined, 
"Yes, Jamie, he was a bad man, but he might have 
been worse ; he was an Irishman, but he might have 
been a Scotchman ; he was a priest, but he might 
have been a lawyer ; he w^as a republican, but he 
might have been an apostate." 

* James O'Coigly (alias James Quigley, alias James John 
Fivey) was tried for high treason at Maidstone, and hanged on Pen- 
ningdon Heath, 7th June, 1798. When he had hung about ten 
minutes, he was beheaded ; and the head and hody were immediately 
buried under the gallows (the rest of his sentence — that, " while he 
was yet alive, his bowels should be taken out and burnt before his 
face," &c., having been remitted). — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGEKS. 49 

After their quarrel (about Gerald), Parr often 
spoke with much bitterness of Mackintosh : among 
other severe things, he said that " Mackintosh came 
up from Scotland with a metaphysical head, a cold 
heart, and open hands." At last they were recon- 
ciled, having met, for that purpose, in my house : 
but their old familiarity was never fully re-esta- 
blished. 

Parr was frequently very tiresome in conversa- 
tion, talking like a schoolmaster. 

He had a horror of the east wind; and Tom 
Sheridan once kept him prisoner in the house for a 
fortnight by fixing the weathercock in that direc- 
tion. 



"We have not a few charming prose-writers in 
what may be called the middle style, — Addison, 
Middleton, Jortin, &c. ; but in the highest prose- 
style we have none to be compared with Bossuet, 
Pascal, or Buffon. — ^We have far better tragic wri- 
ters than Corneille or Racine ; but we have no one 
to be compared with Moliere, — no one like him. 



50 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Swift's verses on his own death have an exqui- 
site facility: but we are not to suppose that he 
wrote them off-hand ; their ease is the result of very 
careful composition. 



Helen Maria Williams was a very fascinating 
person ; but not handsome. I knew her intimately 
in her youth, when she resided in London with her 
mother and sisters. They used to give very agree- 
able evening-parties, at which I have met many of 
the Scotch literati, Lord Monboddo, &c. 

Late in life, Helen translated into English, and 
very beautiful English too, Humboldt's long work, 
Personal JSFarratwe of Travels, &c. ; and, I believe, 
nearly the whole impression still lies in Longman's 
warehouse. 

"When she was in Paris, during the Revolution, 
she has seen men and women, who were waiting foi 
admission at the door of the theatre, suddenly leave 
their station on the passing of a set of wretches 
going to be guillotined, and then, after having as- 
certained that none of their relations or friends were 
among them, very unconcernedly return to the 
door of the theatre. — I have frequently dined with 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL K0GEK8. 51 

her at Paris, when Kosciusko and other celebrated 
persons were of the party. 



When Lord Erskine heard that somebody had 
died worth two hundred thousand pounds, he ob- 
served, " Well, that's a very pretty sum to begin 
the next world with." 

" A friend of mine," said Erskine, " was suiFering 
from a continual wakefulness ; and various methods 
were tried to send him to sleep, but in vain. At last 
his physicians resorted to an experiment which suc- 
ceeded perfectly : they dressed him in a watchman's 
coat, put a lantern into his hand, placed him in a 
sentry-box, and — he was asleep in ten minutes." 

To all letters soliciting his " subscription" to any 
thing, Erskine had a regular form of reply, viz. 
" Sir, I feel much honoured by your application to 
me, and I beg to subscribe" — here the reader had 
to turn over the leaf— "myself your very ob' ser- 
vant," &c. 

I wish I could recollect all the anecdotes of his 
early life which Erskine used to relate with such 
spirit and dramatic effect. He had been in the navy ; 



52 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

and he said that he once managed to run a vessel 
between two rocks, where it seemed almost impos- 
sible that she conld have been driven. He had also 
been in the army ; and on one occasion saved the life 
of a soldier who was condemned to death, by mak- 
ing an earnest appeal in his behalf to the general 
in command and his wife : Erskine having got the 
pardon, rode off with it at full speed to the place of 
execution, where he arrived just as the soldier was 
kneeling, and the muskets were levelled for the 
fatal shot. 

Erskine used to say that when the hour came 
that all secrets should be revealed, we should know 
the reason why — shoes are always made too tight. 

When he had a house at Hampstead, he enter- 
tained the very best company. I have dined there 
with the Prince of "Wales, — the only time I ever had 
any conversation with his royal highness. On that 
occasion the Prince was very agreeable and familiar. 
Among other anecdotes which he told us of Lord 
Thurlow, I remember these two. Tlie first was : 
Thurlow once said to the Prince, "Sir, your father 
will continue to be a popular king as long as he 
continues to go to church every Sunday, and to be 



TABLE-TAI.K OF SAlVroEL ROGERS. 53 

faithful to that ugly woman, your mother; but you, 
sir, will never be popular." The other was this : 
While his servants were carrying Thurlow up stairs 
to his bed-room, just before his death, they hap- 
pened to let his legs strike against the banisters, 
upon which he utterred the last words he ever spohe, 
— a frightful imprecation on " all their souls." 

Erskine said that the Prince of "Wales was quite 
"a cosmogony man" (alluding to The Vicar of 
Wakefield)^ for he had only two classical quota- 
tions, — one from Homer and one from Yirgil, — 
which he never failed to sport when there was any 
opportunity of introducing them.* 

Latterly Erskine was very poor ; and no wonder, 
for he always contrived to sell out of the funds when 
they were very low, and to buy in when they were 
very high. "By heaven," he would say, "I am a 
perfect kite, all paper ; the boys might fly me." 
Yet, poor as he was, he still kept the best society : 
I have met him at the Duke of York's, &c. &c. 



* Mr. Luttrell, who was present when Mr. Rogers told this anec- 
dote, added — " Yes, and the quotation from VirgU was always given 
with a ridiculous error, ' Non illi imperium pelago, saevnmque triden- 
tom.' " &c. -£n. i. 138. — Ed. 



54 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

I asked Erskine if he really was the author of 
two little poems attributed to him, — The Geranium 
and The Birth of the Rose. He replied that The 
Geranium was written by him ; that the other was 
not his. 

Here's an epigram by Erskine which is far from 
bad (I know not if it has ever been printed) ; 

" The French have taste in all they do, 
Which we are quite without ; 
For Nature, that to them gave gout^ 
To us gave only gout." 



Thomas Grenville* told me this curious fact. 
When he was a young mau, he one day dined with 
Lord Spencer at Wimbledon. Among the company 
was George Pitt (afterwards Lord Rivers), who de- 
clared that he could tame the most furious animal 
by looking at it stead^'ly. Lord Spencer said, "Well, 
there is a mastiff in the court-yard here, which is 

* The Right Hon. T. G. — Sometimes, towards the close of 
bis life, from lapse of memory, Mr. Rogers, in relating this anec- 
dote, would state that he himself had been of the party at Lord 
Spencer's. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS, 55 

the terror of tlie neiglibourhoocl : will you try your 
powers on liim ? " Pitt agreed to do so ; and the 
company descended into the court-yard. A servant 
held the mastiff by a chain. Pitt knelt down at 
a short distance from the animal, and stared him 
sternly in the face. They all shuddered. At a 
signal given, the mastiff was let loose, and rushed 
furiously towards Pitt, — then suddenly checked his 
pace, seemed confounded, and, leaping over Pitt's 
head, ran away, and was not seen for many hours 
after. 

During one of my visits to Italy, while I was 
walking, a little before my carriage, on the road, 
not far from Yicenza, I perceived two huge dogs, 
nearly as tall as myself, bounding towards me (from 
out a gate-way, though there was no house in sight). 
I recollected what Pitt had done ; and trembling 
from head to foot, I yet had resolution enough to 
stand quite still and eye them with a fixed look. 
"Hiey gradually relaxed their speed from a gallop to 
a trot, came up to me, stopped for a moment, and 
then went back again. 



66 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Dunning (afterwards LordAslibnrton) was "stat- 
ing tlie law " to a jury at Gruildhall, when Lord 
Mansfield interrupted him by saying, " If that be 
law, I'll go home and burn my books." — "My 
Lord," replied Dunning, " you had better go home 
and read them." 

Dunning was remarkably ugly. One night, 
while he was j)laying whist, at ITando's, with Home 
Tooke and two others. Lord Thurlow called at the 
door, and desired the waiter to give a note to Dun- 
ning (with whom, though their politics were so dif- 
ferent, he was very intimate). The waiter did not 
know Dunning by sight. " Take the note up stairs," 
said Thurlow, " and deliver it to the ugliest man at 
the card-table — to him who most resembles the 
knave of spades." The note immediately reached 
its destination. Home Tooke used often to tell this 
anecdote. 



When I was young, we had (what we have not 
now) several country-gentlemen of considerable 
literary celebrity, — for instance, Hayley, Sargent, 
(author of The Mine), and "Webb. There are some 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 57 

good remarks on painting and on poetry scattered 
through Webb's different pieces. 

If Ilayley was formerly over-rated, he is now 
undervalued. He was a most accomplished person, 
as indeed is evident from the notes to his various 
poems, — notes which Lord Holland admires great- 
ly.* His translation of the First Canto of the Iti- 
ferno \ is on the whole good ; but he has omitted 
some of the striking cii'cumstances in the original. 

When I first came forward as a poet, I was 
highly gratified by the praise which Hayley be- 
stowed on my writings, and which was communi- 
cated to me by Cadell the publisher. 

I once travelled with Lord Lansdowne (when 
Lord Henry Petty) to Bognor, in the neighbour- 
hood of which Hayley was then living (not at 
Eartham, but in a village X near it). I went to visit 
him. The door was opened by a little girl ; and 



* " Lord Holland, the best-informed and most elegant of our 
writers on the subject of the Spanish theatre, declared that he had 
been induced to learn that langiiage by what Hayley had written con- 
cerning the poet Ercilla." Gary's Life of Hayky — Lives of English 
Poets, Sfc. p. 347. — Ed. 

I In the Notes to his Essay on Poetry. — Ed. 

\ Felpham. — Ed. 



58 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

when I said, " Is Mr. Hayley at home ? " he himself 
exclaimed, "Yes, he is" — (he recognised my voice, 
though we had only met once before, — at Flax- 
man's) ; and out he came, adding, " I am delighted 
to see you : if I had not known your voice, I shoidd 
not have let you in, for I am very busy." I took 
coffee with him, and he talked most agreeably. I 
said that Lord Henry Petty was my travelling com- 
panion, and that he was very anxious to be intro- 
duced to him : but Hayley, who did not care a straw 
for rank, could not be prevailed upon to see his 
lordship. 



In those days, indeed, praise was sweet to me, 
eVen when it came from those who were far inferior 
to Hayley : what pleasure I felt on being told that 
Este had said of me, " A child of Goldsmith, sir ! " 

Parson Este, in conjunction with Ca23tain Top- 
ham, edited the newspaper called The Wm'Id^ He 
was reader at "Whitehall ; and he read the service 
so admirably, that Mrs. Siddons used frequently to 
go to hear him. My sister and I once took him 
with us on a little tour ; and when we were at Koss, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 59 

he read to us Pope's lines about " the man of 
Ross," — ^I cannot describe how beautifully. 

Este published a strange book, My own Life, 
and A Journey through Flanders, &c. He used to 
throw himself into attitudes in the street. At last 
he went mad, and died insane. 



I wish somebody would collect all the Epigrams 
wi-itten by Dr. Mansel (Master of Trinity College, 
Cambridge, and Bishop of Bristol): they are re- 
markably neat and clever. 



When titled ladies become authoresses or com- 
posers, their friends suffer for it. Lady asked 

me to buy her book ; and I replied that I would do 
so when I was rich enough. I went to a concert at 

Lady 's, during which several pieces composed 

by her daughter were performed ; and early next 
morning, a music-seller arrived at my house, bring- 
ing with him the daughter's compositions (and a bill 
receipted), price sixteen shillings. 



60 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Surely, in delicate touclies of pathos Homer ex- 
cels all poets. For instance, how beautiful is An- 
dromaclie's saying, after Hector's death, that As- 
tyanax had lost his playfellow / and Helen's decla- 
ration concerning the same hero, that he had never 
reproached her ! 

[" Thee lost, he loses all, of father, hoth, 
And equal playmate in one day depriv'd." 

Cowper's Iliad, b. xxii. 

" Yet never heard I once hard speech from thee 
Or taunt morose ; but if it ever chanc'd 
That male or female of thy father's house 
Blam'd me, and even if herself the queen 
(Tor in the king, whate'er befeU, I found 
Always a father), thou hast interpos'd 
Thy gentle temper and thy gentle speech 
To soothe them." Id. b. xxiv.] 

John Hunter believed that when there was only 
one daughter and several sons in a family, the 
daughter was always of a masculine disposition ; and 
that when a family consisted of several daughters and 
only one son, the son was always effeminate. Payne 
Knight used to say that Homer seems to have enter- 
tained the same idea ; for in the Iliad we find that 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJMUEL EOGEES. 61 

Dolon, who proves to bo such a coward, was an only 
son and had several sistere. 

[" There was one Dolon in the camp of Troy, 
Son of Eumedes, herald of the gods, 
Who with five daughters had no son beside." 

Cowper's /Z^W, b. x.] 

Some traveller relates, that an Indian being 
asleep in his canoe, which was fastened to the shore, 
a little above the Falls of l!^iagara, an English sol- 
dier wantonly cut the fastenings, and the canoe 
drifted into the current ; — that the Indian, after 
vainly trying the use of his paddles, and perceiving 
that he was just approaching the Falls, covered his 
head with his mat, lay down in the canoe, and 
calmly resigned himself to his fate. So Homer, fol- 
lowing nature, tells us in the Odyssey that Ulysses, 
when his companions had opened the bag which 
contained the winds, covered his head with his 
mantle, and lay down in the vessel. 

[" They loos'd the bag ; forth issu'd all the winds, 
And, rapt by tempests back, with fruitless tears 
They mourn'd their native country lost again. 
Just then awaking, in my troubled mind 
I doubted, whether from the vessel's side 



62 



RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

To plunge and perish, or with patient mind 

To suffer aud to live. The sufferer's part 

At length I chose, and resolute surviv'd. 

But, with my mantle wrapp'd around my brows, 

I laid me down, till, hurried by the blast, 

"We, groaning, reach'd again th' j^olian isle." 

Cowper's Odyssey^ b. x.] 



It is inexcusable in any one to write illegibly. 
When I was a schoolboy, I used to get hold of our 
writing-master's copies and trace them by holding 
them against the window : hence the plain hand I 
now write. — When the great Lord Clive was in 
India, his sisters sent him some handsome presents 
from England ; and he informed them by letter that 
he had returned them an ^'^ el&phant^^ (at least so 
they read the word) ; an announcement which threw 
them into the utmost perplexity, — for what could 
they possibly do with the animal? The true word 
was " equivalent." * 



* Those who have seen autograph letters of Dr. Parr will not 
easily believe that any handwriting could be more pnzzliug. A 
Fellow of Magdalen College (who himself told me the circumstance) 
■received one day a note from Parr, to say that he was on his way to 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. 68 

Eoinney the painter used to say that the Grecian 
architecture was the invention of glorious men, but 
the Gothic that of gods. 



Thomas Grenville * told me that he was present 
in the House when LordlSTorth, suddenly rising from 
his seat and going out, carried off on the hilt of his 
sword the wig of Welhore Ellis, who was stooping 
to take up some papers. — I have myself often seen 
Lord North in the House. While sitting there, he 
would frequently hold a handkerchief to his face ; 
and once, after a long debate, when somebody said 
to him, "My lord, I fear you have been asleep," he 
replied, "I wish I had." 



Sheridan, Tickell, and the rest of their set de- 
lighted in all sorts of practical jokes. For instance, 
while they were staying with Mr. f and Mrs. Crewe 

Oxford, would sup witli him that night, and would be glad to have 
two eggs (so my informant read the words) got ready for his supper. 
Accordingly, on his arrival, the eggs were served up in all due form 
to the hungry Doctor, who no sooner saw them than he flew into a 
violent passion. Instead of eggs he had written lobsters. — Ed. 

* The Right Honourable T. G.— Ed. 

t Raised to the peerage (as Lord Crewe) in 1806. — Ed. 



64 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

(at Crewe Hall), Mrs. Sheridan and Mrs. Crewe 
would be driving out in the carriage, Sheridan and 
Tickell * riding on before them : suddenly, the ladies 
would see Sheridan stretched upon the ground, ap- 
parently in the agonies of death, and Tickell stand- 
ing over him in a theatrical attitude of despair. 
— Again, Mr. Crewe expressed a great desire to 
meet Richardson (author of The Fugitive)^ of 
whom he had heard Sheridan and Tickell talk with 
much admiration. " I have invited him here," said 
Sheridan, " and he will positively be with us to- 
morrow." Kext day, accordingly, Richardson made 
his appearance, and horrified the Crewes by the vul- 
garity and oddness of his manners and language. 
The fact was, Sheridan had got one of Mr. Crewe's 
tenants to personate Richardson for the occasion. — I 
don't know whether Richardson's Fugitive is a good 
comedy or not ; f but I know that Mrs. Jordan 

* Is it necessary to mention that Tickell (author of The Wreath of' 
Fashion, a poem, of Anticipation, a prose pamphlet, &c. &c.) was one 
of Sheridan's most intimate friends ; and that he and Sheridan had 
married sisters ? — Ed. 

f It is far from a contemptible one ; and it must have been ex- 
tremely well acted ; for, besides the two performers whom Mr. Rogers 
mentions, Dodd, Parsons, Palmer, King, Miss Farren, and Miss Pope, 
had parts in it. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 65 

played very sweetly in it, and that "Wewitzer per- 
formed a Frenchman most amusingly. 

I'll tell you another of Sheridan's youthful 
pranks. One night, as he, Fitzpatrick, and Lord 
John Townshend, came out of Drury-lane Theatre, 
they observed, among the vehicles in waiting, a very 
handsome phaeton with a groom in it. Sheridan 
asked the groom to let him get into the phaeton for 
five minutes, just to try it. The man consented, and 
stepped down. Sheridan got in, made Fitzpatrick 
and Townshend get in also, and then drove off at full 
speed for Vauxhall, whither they were pursued by 
the groom and a great crowd, shouting and haloo- 
ing after them. At Yauxhall the gi'oom recovered 
the phaeton, and was pacified by the present of a 
few shillings. But it would seem that this exploit 
had been attended with some unpleasant conse- 
quences to Sheridan, for he could not bear any allu- 
sion to it : he would say, " Pray do not mention 
such an absurd frolic." 

I was present on the second day of Hastings's 
trial in Westminster Hall ; when Sheridan was 
listened to with such attention that you might have 
heard a pin drop. — Dm-ing one of those days, Sheri- 



66 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

dan, having observed Gibbon among the audience, 
took occasion to mention " the luminous author of 
The Decline and FalV * After he had finished, 
one of his friends reproached him with flattering 
Gibbon. " Why, what did I say of him ? " asked 
Sheridan. — " You called him the luminous author," 
&c. — " Luminous ! oh, I meant — voluminous." 

Sheridan once said to me, " When posterity read 
the speeches of Burke, they will hardly be able to 
believe that, during his life-time, he was not con- 
sidered as a first-rate speaker, not even as a second- 
rate one." 

When the Duke of York was obliged to retreat 
before the French,f Sheridan gave as a toast, " The 
Duke of York and his brave followers." 

* But, as reported in The Morning Chronicle, June 14, 1788, the 
expression used by Sheridan was "the correct periods of Tacitus 
or the luminous page of Gibbon." — " Before my departure from Eng- 
land, I was present at the august spectacle of Mr. Hastings's trial in 
Westminster Hall. It is not my province to absolve or condemn the 
Governor of India ; but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence demanded my ap- 
plause ; nor could I hear without emotion the personal compliment 
which he paid me in the presence of the British nation." Gibbon's 
Memoirs, &c. p. 172, ed. 4to. — Ed. 

\ On the campaigns of his Royal Highness, see Memoir of the 
Duke of York in The GendeTruxiis Magazine for Jajiuary 1827, 
pp. 71, 2, 3.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 67 

Sheridan was dining one day at my house when 
I produced the versified translation of Aristsenetus,* 
saying, " You are guilty of this." He made no re- 
ply, but took it, and put it, with a smile, into his 
pocket (from which, of course, I drew it out). What 
an odd fancy, to turn Aristsenetus into verse ! Hal- 
lied, who assisted Sheridan in that translation, pub- 
lished imitations of Martial, and some of them are 
very good. 

I have seen Sheridan in comjDany with the fa- 
mous Pamela.f She was lovely — quite radiant 
with beauty ; and Sheridan either was, or pretended 
to be violently in love with her. On one occasion, 
I remember that he kept labouring the whole even- 
ing at a copy of verses in French, which he intended 
to present to her, every ilow and then writing down 

* Printed, without the translator's name, in 1771. — Ed. 

f Madame de Genlis's adopted daughter, who was married at 
Tournay, in 1792, to Lord Edward Fitzgerald. According to 
Madame de Genlis, in her Memoirs, two days hefore she and 
Pamela left England, Sheridan declared himself, in her presence, 
the lover of Pamela, who accepted his hand with pleasure ; and it 
was settled that they should he married — " on osr return from 
France, which was expected to take place in a fortnight." See 
Memoirs of Sheridan, vol. ii. 196, ed. 1827, by Moore, who suspects, not 
without good reason, that in this affair Sheridan was only amxising 
himself. — Ed. 



68 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

a word or two on a slip of paper with a pencil. Tlie 
best of it was, that he understood French very im- 
perfectly. 

I prefer Sheridan's Rivals to his School for Scan- 
dal : exquisite humour pleases me more than the 
finest wit. 

Sheridan was a great artist : what could be more 
happy in expression than the last of these lines ? you 
may see it illustrated in the Park every Sunday : — 

" Hors'd in Cheapside, scarce yet the gayer spark 
Achieves the Sunday triumph of the Park ; 
Scarce yet you see him, dreading to be late. 
Scour the New Road and dash through Grosvenor Gate ; 
Anxious — yet timorous too — his steed to show, 
The hack Bucephalus of Rotten Row. 
Careless he seems, yet vigilantly sly, 
Woos the stray glance of ladies passing by, 
While his ofF-heel, insidiously aside, 
ProvoTces the caper which he seems to chide."* 

I regret that Moore should have printed those 
memoranda- which prove how painfully Sheridan ela- 



* Prologue to Pizarro (but originally written for, and spoken 
before, Lady Craven's Miniature Picture). — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SA]VIUEL ROGERS. 69 

borated his compositions ; for, thongli the judicious 
few will feel that Sheridan was quite right in doing 
80j the public generally will think the less of him 
for it, — ^1^0 wonder that those memoranda were ex- 
tant : Sheridan was in the habit of putting bj, not 
only all papers written by himself, but all others 
that came into his hands. Ogle told me that, after 
his death, he found in his desk sundry unopened 
letters written by his (Ogle's) mother, who had sent 
them to Sheridan to be franked. 

Sheridan did not display his admirable powers in 
company till he had been warmed by wine. During 
the earlier part of dinner he was generally heavy and 
silent ; and I have heard him, when invited to drink 
a glass of wine, reply, "ISTo, thank you; I'll take — a 
little small beer," After dinner, when he had had 
a tolerable quantity of wine, he was brilliant indeed. 
But when he went on swallowing too much, he be- 
came downright stupid : and I once, after a dinner- 
party at the house of Edwards tlie bookseller in 
Pall Mall, walked with him to Brookes's, when he 
had absolutely lost the use of speech, 

Sheridan, Sir Walter (then Mr.) Scott, and 
Moore were one day dining with me, and Sheridan 



70 KECOLLECTIOJSrS OF THE 

■was talking in his very best style, when, to my great 
vexation, Moore (who has that sort of restlessness 
which never allows him to be happy where he is) 
suddenly interrupted Sheridan by exclaiming, 
"Isn't it time to go to Lydia White's?"* 

During his last illness, the medical attendants 
apprehending that they would be obliged to per- 
form an operation on him, asked him "if he had 
ever undergone one." — " Kever," replied Sheridan, 
" except when sitting for my picture, or having my 
hair cut." 

Sheridan had very fine eyes, and he was not a 
little vain of them. He said to me on his death- 
bed, "Tell Lady Besborough that my eyes will look 
up to the coflin-lid as brightly as ever." 

* Miss Lydia AVhite (long since dead) was a lady who de- 
lighted in giving parties to as many celebrated people as she could 
collect. The following instance of her readiness in reply was com- 
municated to me by my friend the Rev. W» Harness. " At one of 
Lydia White's small and most agreeable dinners in Park Street, the 
company (most of them, except the hostess, being Whigs) were dis- 
cussing in rather a querulous strain the desperate prospects of their 
party. ' Yes,' said Sidney Smith, ' we are in a most deplorable 
condition : we must do something to help ourselves ; I think we had 
better sacrifice a Tory virgin.' This was pointedly addressed to Lydia 
White, who, at once catching and applying the allusion to Iphigenia, 
answered, ' I believe there is nothing the Whigs would not do to raise 
the ■icind.'' " — En. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMTJEL E0GER8. Yl 



Soon after his death, Lord Holland wrote a short 
biographical sketch of him, in which it is stated that 
he showed during the closing scene a deep sense of 
devotion. But, on my asking the Bishop of London, 
who had been called in to read prayers to him, what 
were the religious feelings of Sheridan in his last 
moments, the answer was, " I had no means of know- 
ing ; for when I read the prayers, he was totally 
insensible ; Mrs. Sheridan raising him up, and join- 
ing his hands together." * 

In his dealings with the world, Sheridan cer- 
tainly carried the privileges of genius as far as they 
were ever carried by man. 



We used all to read and like Tickell's Wreath of 

* Let us hear, however, what Smyth says on this point in his 
(privately-printed) Memoir of Mr. Sheridan. " But the next day 
he [Sheridan] was not better, and I never saw him. I talked about 
him, while I sat with Mrs. Sheridan ; as much, at least, as I thought 
she chose. I durst not ask much. She told me she had sent for 
her i'riend, Dr. Howley, then Bishop of London, who had instantly 
come up from Oxfordshire to pray by him. 'And Mr. Sheridan,' I 
ventured to say, ' what of him ? ' 'I never saw,' she replied, ' such 
awe as there was painted in his countenance — I shall never forget 
it.' " p. 68.— Ed. 



72 REcdlLECTIONS OF THE 

Fashion, and his other pieces, as they came out. 1 
can still repeat several of the songs in his opera, The 
Carnival of Yenice* though they are only so-so : 
here is part of one of them ; 

" Soon as the busy day is o'er, 

And evening comes "witli pleasant shade, 
"VVe gondoliers, from shore to shore, 
Merrily ply onr jovial trade; 

And while the moon shines on the stream, 
And as soft music breathes around. 

The feathering oar returns the gleam, 
And dips in concert to the sound. 

Down by some convent's mouldering walla 

Oft we bear th' enamour'd youth ; 
Softly the watchful fair he calls, 

"Who whispers vows of love and truth," &c. 



It is quite true, as stated in several accounts of 
him, that Fox, when a very young man, was a pro- 
digious dandy, — wearing a little odd French hat, 
shoes with red heels, &c. He and Lord Carlisle 

* No portion of this opera^ except the songs, was ever printed. — 
See note, p. 64. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEKS. Y3 

once travelled from Paris to Lyons for the express 
purpose of buying waistcoats ; and during the whole 
journey they talked about nothing else. 

Fox (in his earlier days, I mean), Sheridan, Fitz- 
patrick, &c., led siioTi a life ! Lord Tankerville as- 
sured me that he has played cards with Fitzpatrick 
at Brookes's from ten o'clock at night till near six 
o'clock the next afternoon, a waiter standing by to 
tell them "whose deal it was," they being too 
sleepy to know. 

After losing large sums at hazard, Fox would go 
home, — ^not to destroy himself, as his friends some- 
times feared, but — to sit down quietly, and read 
Greek. 

He once won about eight thousand pounds ; and 
one of his bond-creditors, who soon heard of his 
good luck, presented himself, and asked for pay- 
ment " Impossible, sir," replied Fox ; " I must 
first discharge my debts of honour." The bond- 
creditor remonstrated. "Well, sir, give me your 
bond." It was delivered to Fox, who tore it in 
pieces and threw them into the fire. " Kow, sir," 
said Fox, " my debt to you is a debt of honom- ; ' 
and immediately paid him. 



74 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

When I became acquainted with Fox, he had 
given up that kind of life entirely, and resided in 
the most perfect sobriety and regularity at St. Anne's 
Hill, There he was very happy, delighting in study, 
in rural occupations and rural prospects. He would 
break from a criticism on Porson's Euripides to look 
for the little pigs. I remember his calling out to 
the Chertsey hills, when a thick mist which had for 
some time concealed them, rolled away, "Good 
morning to you! I am glad to see you again." 
There was a walk in his grounds which led to a lane 
through which the farmers used to pass ; and he 
would stop them, and talk to them, with great in- 
terest, about the price of turnips, &c. I was one 
day with him in the Louvre, when he suddenly 
turned from the pictures, and, looking out at the 
window, exclaimed, "This hot sun will burn up my 
turnips at St. Anne's Hill. 

In London mixed society Fox conversed little ; 
but at his own house in the country, with his inti- 
mate friends, he would talk on for ever, with all the 
openness and simplicity of a child : he has continued 
talking to me for half-an-hour after he had taken 
up his bed-room candle. — I have seen it somewhere 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 75 

Stated that Fox liked to talk about great people : 
nothing can be more untrue ; he hardly ever al- 
luded to them. I remember, indeed, that he once 
mentioned to me Queen Charlotte, calling her " that 
bad woman." 

He was very shy, and disliked being stared at. 
Windham and I accompanied him one night to 
Yauxhall, where he was much annoyed at being 
followed about, as a spectacle, from place to j)lace. 
On such occasions he was not only shy, but gauche. 

One morning at his own house, while speaking 
to me of his travels, Fox could not recollect the 
name of a particular town in Holland, and Avas much 
vexed at the treacherousness of his memory. He 
had a dinner-party that day ; and, just as he had 
applied the carving knife to the sirloin, the name of 
tlie town having suddenly occurred to him, he roared 
out exultingly, to the astonishment of the company, 
" Gorcum, Gorcum ! " 

Fox saw Yoltaire at Ferney. Their interview 
was described to me in a letter by Uvedale Price,* 
who went there with him : but unfortunately I no 

* Created a baronet in 1828. — A small portion of tliat letter, 
about Fox's visit to Voltaire, has lately been printed in Memoi'ials 
and Correspondence of C. J. Fox, edited hy Lord J. Russell, vol. i. 46. 



76 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

longer possess that letter ; I lent it to Lord Holland, 
and never could get it back. 

— An account of the same visit, from the pen of the same writer, 
occurs in a letter to my unfortunate friend the late E. H. Barker, 
dated March 24, 1827, from which I shall not scruple to make a long 
extract : — 

"But among the characters of the second generation so ably 
drawn by ]\Ir. Butler [in his Reminiscences], to me much the most 
interesting is that of Charles Fox. Our friendship and intimacy, 
which began at Eton, continued without interruption through life. 
While Etonians, we acted together in the plays given at Holland 
House, which, from the high character and connections of its owner, 
from the premature talents of C. Fox, two years younger than myself, 
and from the peculiarly lovely countenance and sweet-toned voice of 
Lady Sarah Lenox, our Jane Shore (whom, as Gloucester, I could 
hardly bring myself to speak to as harshly as my character required), 
these plays had at the time great celebrity. We were at Oxford to- 
gether, were almost constantly together at Florence, where we studied 
Italian under the same master at the same time. 

" From Rome we travelled together along the eastern coast to 
Venice, and thence to Turin, where we met by appointment our ex- 
cellent friend and schoolfellow, Lord Fitzwilliam, who is mentioned 
by Mr. Butler in r. few words, but most impressively, as spoken of 
Mm by Fox. All this, I am aware, can have little interest for you • 
but having the excuse of Mr. Butler's reminiscences, I have in- 
dulged myself in putting down mine, as they recall a period of great 
and unmixed delight. I then witnessed daily and hourly that 
characteristic good nature, that warm and unalterable attachment 
to his friends of which Mr. B. speaks in so impressive a manner: 
and likewise witnessed on more than one occasion, what was no 
less characteristic, his abhorrence of any thing like tyranny, oppres- 
sion, or cruelty. Having got so far on my journey, I shall e'en 
proceed with it: from Turin we all three set out for Geneva, but 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. YT 

It is well known that Fox visited Gibbon at Lau- 
sanne ; and lie was mucli gi-atified by the visit. 
Gibbon, he said, talked a great deal, walking up and 
down the room, and generally ending his sentences 
with a genitive case ; every now and then, too, casting 
a look of complacency on his own portrait by Sir Jo- 
shua Reynolds, which hung over the chimney-piece, 
— that wonderful portrait, in which, while the odd- 
ness and vulgarity of the features are reiined away, 
the likeness is perfectly preserved, — Fox used to say 
that Gibbon's History was immortal, because nobody 
could do without it, — ^nobody, without vast expense 
of time and labour, could get elsewhere the informa- 

T7ent out of our direct road to that most singular and striking place, 
the Grande Chartreuse, so finely described in Gray's Alcaic Ode. 
From Geneva Fox and I went to Voltaire at Ferney, having ob- 
tained a permission then seldom granted. It is an event in one's 
life to have seen and heard that extraordinary man : he was old and 
infirm, and, in answer to Fox's note and request, said that the name 
of Fox was sufficient, and that he could not refuse seeing us, ' mais 
que nous venions pour Veoderrer.' He conversed in a lively manner, 
walking with us to and fro in a sort of alley ; and at parting gave us 
a list of some of his works, adding, ' Ce sent des livres de qitai il font se 
munir^ they were such as would fortify our young minds against re- 
ligious prejudices. Fox quitted us at Geneva, went to England, and 
commenced his political career, I went with FitzwiUiam through the 
finest parts of Switzerland, and then down the Rhine to Spa, and met 
him again at Paris : and there ends my foreign journal, and high 
time it should." 



78 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

tion which it contains. — I think, and so Lord Gren- 
ville thonght, that the introductory chapters are the 
finest part of that history : it was certainly more 
difficult to write them than the rest of the work. 

Fox had the highest admiration of Lord Korth ; 
he considered him a consummate debater. He 
thought very highly too of Dr. Laurence's speeches ; 
and said that they only tailed in making a deep im- 
pression because his manner of delivery was so bad. 
He disliked Sheridan's famous speeches at Has- 
tings's trial : * yet they fascinated Burke ; and to 
them Fox attributed the change of style which is 
visible in Burke's later compositions. He did not 
greatly admire Burke's celebrated Reflections. 

Kever in my life did I hear any thing equal to 
Fox's speeches in rejply^ — ^hey were wonderful. — 
Burke did not do himself justice as a speaker : his 
manner was hurried, and he always seemed to be 
in a passion. f — Pitt's voice sounded as if he had 
worsted in his mouth, 

* In Westminster Hall. — It must be remembered, however, that 
the perhaps more famous speech in the House of Commons, 7th Feb. 
1787, in which Sheridan brought forward against Hastings the charge 
relative to the Begum Princesses of Oude, was publicly eulogised by 
Fox as a matchless piece of eloquence. — Ed. 

t " Burke," said Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to the Porso- 



TABLE-TALK OP SAJVIUEL ROGERS. 79 

Porson said that " Pitt carefully considered his 
sentences before he uttered them ; but that Fox 
threw himself into the middle of his, and left it to 
God Almighty to get him out again."* 

Malone was one day walking down Dover Street 
with Burke, when the latter all at once drew him- 
self up and carried his head aloft with an air of 
great hauteur. Malone perceived that this was oc- 
casioned by the approach of Pox, who presently 
passed them on the other side of the street. After 
Fox had gone by, Bm-ke asked Malone very eager- 
ly, "Did he look at me?" 

Fox once said to me that " Burke was a most 
impracticable person, a most unmanageable col- 
league, — that he never would support any measure, 
however convinced he might be in his heart of its 

7iiana in this volume), " always disappointed me as a speaker. I have 
heard him, during his speeches in the House, make use of the most 
vulgar expressions, such as ' three nips of a straw,' ' three skips of. a 
louse,' &c. ; and, on one occasion when I was present, he introduced, 
as an illustration, a most indelicate story about a French king, who 
asked his physician why his natural children were so much finer than 
his legitimate." — ^Ed. 

* Porson was thinking of Sterne. " I begin with writing the first 
sentence — and trusting to Almighty God for the second." Tristram 
Shandy, vol. v. 192, ed. 1775.— Ed. 



80 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

utility, if it liad been first proposed by another : "^ 
and he once used these very words, "After all, 
Burke was a damned wrong-headed fellow, through 
his whole life jealous and obstinate." 

Mrs. Crewe t told me that, on some occasion, 
when it was remarked that Fox still retained his 
early love for France and every thing French, Burke 
said, " Yes ; he is like a cat, — he is fond of the 
house, though the family be gone." 

I once dined at Mr. Stone's (at Hackney) with 
Fox, Sheridan, Talleyrand, Madame de Genlis, Pa- 
mela, and some other celebrated persons of the time. 
A natural son of Fox, a dumb boy (who was the 
very image of his father, and who died a few years 
after, when about the age of fifteen) was also there, 
having come, for the occasion, from Braidwood's 
Academy. To him Fox almost entirely confined his 
attention, conversing with him by the fingers : and 

* Casdiis. But what of Cicero ? shall we sound him ? 
I think he will stand very strong with us. 
******* * 

Brutus. name him not : let us not break with him ; 
For he ivill never folloiu any thing 
That other men iegin." 

Shakespeare's Julius Ccesar, act. ii. sc. 1. — Ed. 
t Afterwards Lady Crewe. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. 81 

their eyes glistened as tliej looked at each other. 
Talleyrand remarked to me, " how strange it was, to 
dine in company with the first orator in Europe, and 
only see him talk with his fingers ! " — ^That day I 
offended Madame de Genlis by praising the Contes 
Moraiix of Marmontel, with whom she had quar- 
relled violently. 

At a dinner-party, where I was, Fox met Aikin, 
" I am greatly pleased with your Miscellaneous 
Pieces, Mr. Aikin," said Fox (alluding to the volume 
written partly by Aikin, and partly by his sister Mrs. 
Barbauld). Aikin bowed. "I particularly admire," 
continued Fox, " your essay Against Inconsistency 
in our Expectations.^^ "That," replied Aikin, " is 
my sister's." — " I like much," resumed Fox, " your 
essay On Monastic Institutions.'''' " That," answered 
Aikin, " is also my sister's." Fox thought it best 
to say no more about the book. 

I was present at a dinner-party given by "William 
Smith in "Westminster, when Fox would not take 
the slightest notice of Home Tooke, — would not 
look at him, nor seem to hear any of the good things 
he said. It was the most painful scene of the kind 
\ was ever witness to, except what occurred at my 
4* 



82 KECOLLECITONS OF THE 

own house, when the Duke of Wellington treated 
Lord Holland much in the same way. 

At another of Smith's dinners, the conversation 
turned on Wilberforce ; when somebody put the 
query, — ^If Wilberforce w^ere compelled to desert 
either the cause of the slaves, or the party of Mr. 
Pitt, to Avhich would he adhere ? " Oh," said Fox, 
" he would be for Barabbas." But that was said by 
Fox merely as a joke ; for he greatly respected Pitt ; 
and I remember that, on another occasion at Smith's, 
when Tierney, &c., endeavoured to persuade Fox 
that Pitt was not uttering his real sentiments about 
the abolition of the slave-trade, he would not be so 
persuaded.* — Pitt, too, had the highest respect for 
Fox. One night, after Fox had been speaking, Lord 
Dudley, coming out of tlie house with Pitt, began 
to abuse Fox's speech. " Don't disparage it," said 
Pitt ; " nobody could have made it but himself." 

The Duke of Richmond, Fox, and Burke, were 
once conversing about history, philosophy, and poe- 
try. The Duke said, " I prefer reading history to 

* " During the debates on the war with France, I heard Fox char- 
acterise a speech of Pitt as ' one that would have excited the admira- 
tion and envy of Demosthenes.' " Mr. Maltby (see note prefixed to 
-/he Pmsomava in this volume). — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 83 

philosophy or poetry, because history is truth,''^ Both 
Fox and Burke disagreed with him : they thought 
that poetry was truth, being a representation of hu- 
man nature : and Fox had some thoughts of writing 
an essay on the subject. — Lady Glenbervie told me 
that her father Lord North disliked reading history, 
because he always doubted its truth.* 

In 1792 the Duke of Portland called a meet- 
ing of the "WTiigs at Burlington House, to consider 
the j)ropriety of their supporting the Proclamation 
against seditious writings and democratical conspi- 
racies. Francis Duke of Bedford went there. On 
entering the room, he said to the Duke of Portland, 
"Is Mr. Fox here?" "Ko."— "Has he been in- 
vited?" "Ko."— "Then," replied the Duke of 
Bedford, " I must wish you all good morning : " and 
immediately withdrew.f The Duke of Bedford was 

* " Thinking to amuse my father once, after his retirement from 
the ministry, I offered to read a hnok of history. ' Any thing hut 
history,' said he ; 'for history must be false. " Walpoliana, vol. i. 60. 
—Ed. 

t Many years after I had written down this anecdote, Mr. Rogers 
remarked to me "how poorly" it is told in Lord Holland's Memoirs of 
the Whig Party, i. 16 (1852) : " The Duke of Bedford, on hearing that 
Mr. Fox was not likely to come, drily observed, ' Then I am sure I 
have nothing to do here,' and left the room." — Ed. 



84 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

standi to his principles till the hour of his death ; 
and we owe him much. 

Fox used to declare of himself that he was " a 
most painstaking person," When he came into of- 
fice, finding that his handwriting was very bad, he 
took lessons «to improve it. 

He one day pronounced himself to be a bad 
carver, and, when Mrs. Fox confirmed it, he said, 
" Yes, my dear, I thought you'd agree with me." 

I saw Lunardi make the first ascent in a balloon 
which had been witnessed in England. It was from 
the Artillery Ground. Fox was there with his 
brother General F. The crowd was immense. Fox, 
happening to put his hand down to his watch, found 
another hand upon it, which he immediately seized. 
" My friend," said he to the owner of the strange 
hand, " jou have chosen an occupation which will be 
your ruin at last." — " O, Mr. Fox," was the reply, 
" forgive me, and let me go ! I have been driven to 
this course by necessity alone ; my wife and children 
are starving at home." Fox, always tender-hearted, 
sli])ped a guinea into the hand, and then released it. 
On the conclusion of the show, Fox was jDroceeding 
to look what o'clock it was. " Good God," cried he, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 85 

"my watch is gone!" — "Yes," answered General 
F., " I know it is ; I saw your friend take it." — 
" Saw kim take it ! and you made no attempt to 
stop him?" — "Eeally, you and he appeared to be 
en such good terms with each other, that I did not 
choose to interfere." 

I was walking through the Louvre with Fox, when 
he all but cut Mackintosh, passing him with a nod 
and a "How d'ye do ?" and he gave me to under- 
stand that he had done so because he was angry at 
Mackintosh for having accepted a place in India from 
the Tories. Fitzpatrick, however, told me the real 
cause of Fox's anger ; and it was this ;— Mrs. Mackin- 
tosh had not called upon Mrs. Fox, whom Fox had re- 
cently acknowledged as his wife. Such slight things 
sometimes influence the conduct of great men. 

Most unfortunately, one morning during break- 
fast at St. Anne's Hill, I repeated and praised Gold- 
smith's song, " When lovely woman stoops to folly," 
&c., quite forgetting that it must necessarily hurt 
the feelings of Mrs. Fox. She seemed a good deal 
discomposed by it. Fox merely remarked, " Some 
people write damned nonsense." 

When Buonaparte said to Fox, he was con- 



86 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

vinced that Windliam was implicated in the con- 
trivance of the Infernal Machine, Fox warmly re- 
pelled snch an aspersion on "Windham's character, 
assuring the First Consul that no Englishman would 
degrade himself by being concerned in so vile a 
business. I told this to "Windham, who answered very 
coldly, " "Well, I should have said the same of him 
under similar circumstances." — I have heard "Wind- 
ham speak very disrespectfully of Fox in the House, 
after their political quarrel. 

Fox said that Sir Joshua Reynolds never enjoyed 
flichmond,* — that he used to say the human face 
was his landscape. Fox did not much admire Sir 
Joshua's pictures in the grand style ; he greatly pre- 
ferred those of a playful character : he did not like 
much even the Ugolino ; but he thought the boys 
in the ISTativity were charming. 

Once, at Paris, talking to Fox about Le Sueur's 
pictures, I said that I doubted if any artist had ever 
excelled Le Sueur in painting white garments. Fox 
replied that he thought Andrea Sacchi superior to 

* Where Reynolds had a villa. — In Mr. Rogers's collection of pic- 
tures is an exquisite landscape by Sir Joshua — a view from Richmond 
Hill, with the features of the scene a little altered. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 07 

Le Sueur in that respect. I mention this to show 
that Fox was not only fond of painting, bnt had 
given minute attention to it.* 

He was an eager chess-player : I have heard him 
say, on coming down to breakfast, that he had not 
been able to sleep for thinking about some par- 
ticular move. 

While young Betty was in all his glory, I went 
with Fox and Mrs. Fox, after diniug with them in 
Arlington Street, to see him act Hamlet ; and, dur- 
ing the play-scene. Fox, to my infinite surprise, said, 
" This is finer than Garrick." f — How wise it was in 
Kemble and Mrs. Siddons quietly to withdraw from 
the stage during the Betty furor, and then as quietly 
to return to it, as if nothing unusual had occurred ! 

* For an account of the delight which Fox received from visiting 
the Louvre, see Trotter's Memoirs of Fox, p. 209. — Ed. 

t Such criticism will now seem (and undoubtedly is) preposter- 
ous. But we must recollect that there was a marvellous charm 
about the young Roscius. " Northcote then spoke of the boy, as he 
always calls him (Master Betty). He asked if I had ever seen him 
act ; and I said, Yes, and was one of his admirers. He answered, 
' Oh ! yes, it was such a beautiful effusion of natural sensibility ; and 
then that graceful play of the limbs in youth gave such an advantage 
over every one about him. Humphreys (the artist) said, he had never 
seen the little Apollo off the pedestal before.' " Hazlit t's Conversations 
9/ Northcote, p. 23. — Ed. 



m RECOLLECTIONS OF THF 

Fox said that Barry's Romeo was superior tc 
Garrick's. 

" If I had a son," observed Fox, " I should insist 
on his frequently writing English verses, whether 
he had a taste for poetry or not, because that sort of 
composition forces one to consider very carefully 
the exact meanings of words." 

I introduced "Wordsworth to Fox, having taken 
him with me to a ball given by Mrs. Fox. " I am 
very glad to see you, Mr. Wordsworth, though I am 
not of your faction," was all that Fox said to him, — 
meaning that he admired a school of poetry different 
from that to which Wordsworth belonged. 

Fox considered Burnet's style to be perfect. We 
were once talking of an historian's introducing oc- 
casionally the words of other writers into his work 
without marking them as quotations, when Fox said, 
" that the style of some of the authors so treated 
might need a little mending, but that Burnet's re- 
quired none." 

He thought that Robertson's account of Colum- 
bus was very pleasingly written. 

He was so fond of Dryden, that he had some idea 
)f editing his works. It was absurd, he said, not to 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 89 

print the originals by Chaucer along with Dr jden's 
versions of them ; and absurd in Malone to print all 
Dryden's Prefaces by themselves. " Dryden's imi- 
tations of Horace," he would say, "■ are better than 
the originals : how tine this is ! — 

Happy the man, and happy he alone, 
He who can call to-day his own ; 
He who, secure within, can say, 
To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have liv'd to-day ; 

Be fair or foul, or rain or shine, 
The joys I have possess'd, in spite of Fate, are mine ; 

Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, 
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.' " * 

One forenoon, at his own liouse, Fox was talk- 
ing to me very earnestly about Dryden, when he 
suddenly recollected that (being in office) he ought 
to make his appearance at the Bang's levee. It was 
so late that, not having time to change his dress, he 
set off for Buckingham House, "accoutred as he 
was ; " and Avhen somebody remarked to him that 
his coat was not quite the thing, he replied, " 'No 

* Tweniy-ninth Ode of the First Booh of Horace paraphrased, ^c. 
—Ed. 



90 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

matter; he [i.e. George the Third] is so blind that 
he can't distinguish what I have on." 

There was a period of his life when Fox used to 
say that he could not forgive Milton for having oc- 
casioned him the trouble of reading through a j^oem 
{Paradise Lost), three parts of which were not worth 
reading. He afterwards, however, estimated it more 
justlj.* Milton's prose works he never could endure. 

He said that Mrs. Sheridan's Sidnfiey Biddtilpli 
was the best of all modern novels. (By the by, Sher- 
idan used to declare that he had never read it ! f ) 

When Fox was a young man, a copy of Mas- 
singer accidentally fell into his hands : he read it, 
and, for some time after, could talk of nothing but 
Massinger. 

He thought so highly of the Isacco of Metasta- 
sio, that he considered it as one of the four most 
beautiful compositions produced during the century ; 

* In a letter to Trotter, after noticing the predominance of " the 
grand and terrific and gigantic " in iEschylus, Fox continues ; " This 
never suits my taste ; and I feel the same objection to most parts 
of the Paradise Lost, though in that poem there are most splendid 
exceptions, Eve, Paradise, &c." Trotter's Menwirs of Fox, p. 520. 
—Ed. 

■)■ The incident, in The School for Scandal, of Sir Oliver's presenting 
himself to his relations in disguise, is manifestly taken by Sheridan 
from his mother's novel. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJVIUEL ROGERS. 91 

the other three being Pope's Eloisa to Abelard^ Vol- 
taire's Zairc^ and Gray's Elegy. ^^ 

" ISTo one," said Fox, " could be an ill-tempered 
man who wrote so much nonsense as Swift did." 

His admiration of Ariosto was extreme. — He 
thought Petrarch's Latin letters better than his 
Sonnets. 

He once pointed out to me, as excellent, this 
passage of Paley. " The distinctions of civil life are 
almost always insisted upon too much, and urged too 
far. Whatever, therefore, conduces to restore the 
level, by qualifying the dispositions which grow out 
of great elevation or depression of rank, improves 
tlie character on both sides, l^ow things are made 
to appear little by being placed beside what is 
great. In which manner, superiorities, that occupy 
the whole field of the imagination, will vanish or 
shrink to their proper diminutiveness, when com- 
pared wi th the distance by which even the highest 
of men are removed from the Supreme Being, and 
this comparison is naturally introduced by all acts 
of joint worship. If ever the poor man holds up his 

* Yet, we have been told, Fox did not consider the Elegy as Gray's 
best poem : see p. 36. — Ed. 



92 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

head, it is at cliurcli ; if ever the rich man views him 
with respect, it is there : and both will be the bet- 
ter, and the public profited, the oftener they meet 
in a situation, in which the consciousness of dignity 
in the one is tempered and mitigated, and the spirit 
of tlie other erected and confirmed."* 

Fox used to read Homer through once every 
year. On my asking him, " Which poem had you 
rather have wiitten, the Iliad or the Odyssey f " he 
answered, "I know which I had rather read" 
(meaning the Odyssey f ). 

Euripides was his grand favorite among the 
Greek poets. He fancied that Shakespeare must 
have met with some translation of Eurijjides,:}: for he 
could trace resemblances between passages of their 
dramas : e. g. what Alcestis in her last moments says 
about her servants is like what the dying Queen 
Katharine (in Henry the Eighth) says about hers, &c. 

He considered the (Edipus Coloneus as the best 
play of Sophocles; andhe admired greatly his ^i^ec^a. 

He did not much like Csesar's Commenta/ries j 

* Mor. and Pol. Philosophj, b. v. cIi. 4. — Ed. 

\ "I suppose," saj^s Fox, in a letter to Trotter, " us soon as you 
have done the Iliad, you will read the Odyssey, which, though certainly 
not so fine a poem, is, to my taste, still pleasanter to read." Trotter's 
Memoirs of Fox, p. 494. — Ed. % A mere fancy. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGEES. 93 

tliey appeared to liim rather dry and deficient in 
thoiight. He said that the letter to Oppins and 
Balbus,* which is very little known, was the piece 
that did Caesar most honour ; and that he had once 
transcribed it with the intention of sending it to 
Bnonaparte, when the news of the Duke d'Enghien's 
death made him change his mind. 

He observed that the Greek historians generally 

* Extant in the collection of Cicero's Epist. ad Att. lib. ix. 7. c. 
It was written at the commencement of the civil war ; and (in the 
translation of Heberden) is as follows : " I am very glad that you 
express in your letter how much you approve of what ias been done 
at Corfinium. I shall willingly adopt your advice ; and the more 
so, because of my own accord I had resolved to show every lenity, 
and to use my endeavours to conciliate Pompeius. Let us tiy by 
these means if we can regain the affections of all people, and ren- 
der our victory lasting. Others from their cruelty have not been 
able to avoid the hatred of mankind, nor long to retain their victory ; 
except L. SuUa alone, whom I do not mean to imitate. Let this be 
a new method of conquering, to fortify ourselves with kindness and 
liberality. How this may be done, some tilings occiir to my own 
mind, and many others may be found. To this subject I request your 
attention. I have taken Cn. Magius, Pompeius's prsefect. I accord- 
ingly put in practice my own principle, and immediately released 
him. Already two of Pompeius's prsefects of engineers have fallen 
into my power, and have been released. If they are disposed to be 
grateful, they should exhort Pompeius to prefer my friendship to that 
of these people, who have always been the worst enemies to him and 
to me ; by whose artifices it has happened that the Republic has come 
into this condition." — Ed. 



94 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

told nothing but truth, while the Latin historians 
generally told nothing but lies. 

He was a constant reader of Yirgil ; and had 
been so from a very early period. There is at Hol- 
land House a copy of Yirgil covered with Fox's 
manuscript notes, written when he was a boy, and 
expressing the most enthusiastic admiration of that 
poet. 

He once told me that the extracts which he had 
seen from Hippocrates had given him a high opinion 
of that writer ; that one of his aphorisms was excel- 
lent, — " The second-best remedy is better than the 
best, if the patient likes it best ;" — and that he in- 
tended to read his works. 

Afterwards, calling upon him in Stable Yard 
when he happened to be ill, I found him reading 
Hippocrates. — On that occasion I said I wished that 
the new administration would put down the east 
wind by an act of Parliament. He replied, smiling 
(and waking, as it were, from one of his fits of tor- 
por), that they would find it difficult to do that, but 
that they would do as much good in that as they 
would in any thing else. 

He said that Lem\ Othello, and Macbeth were 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEKfi. 95 

the best of Shakespeare's works ; that the first act 
of Hamlet was pre-eminent ; that the ghost in that 
play was quite nnequalled, — there was nothing like 
it; and that Hamlet was not mad. — On another 
occasion he said that the character of Macbeth was 
very striking and original, — that at first he is an 
object of our pity, and that he becomes gradually 
worse and worse, till at last he has no virtue left 
except courage. 

He thought Raleigh a very fine writer. Boling- 
broke he did not like. Surrey was " too old " for 
him. 

He said that Congreve's Way of the World was 
a charming comedy, but his Mourning Bride alto- 
gether execrable ; that Sheridan's Pizarro was the 
worst thing possible. 

He had never been able to read Mickle's Lusiad 
through. He once met Mickle, and took a dislike 
to him. 

He was fond of the song " The heavy hours are 
almost past," by Lord Lyttleton; whose son, he 
said, was a very bad man, — downright wicked. 

He thought Mrs. Barbauld's Life of Richardson 
admirable ; and regretted that she wasted her talents 



96 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

in writing books for children (excellent as those 
books might be), now that there were so many 
pieces of that description. 

The Adventurer^ he said, was very poor ; The 
World far superior, and he had read it with pleasure. 

He thought Tickell's '^ lines On the Death of 
Addison quite perfect ; and he liked a large portion 
of his Kensington Gardens. 

He often spoke with high praise of Cowper's 
Epistle to Joseph Hill. It was through "Windham that 
he first became acquainted with Cowper's poetry. 

Yery shortly before he died, he complained of 
great uneasiness in his stomach ; and Cline advised 
him to try the effects of a cup of coffee. It was 
accordingly ordered ; but, not being brought so soon 
as was expected, Mrs. Fox expressed some impa- 
tience ; upon which Fox said, with his usual sweet 
smile, "Kemember, my dear, that good coffee can- 
not be made in a moment." 

Lady Holland announced the death of Fox in 
her own odd manner to those relatives and intimate 

* " Tickell's merit," Wordsworth remarked to me, " is not suffi- 
ciently known. I think him one of the very best writers of oeca- 
Kional verses." — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJSIUEL EOGEKS. 97 

friends of his wlio were sitting in a room near his 
bed-chamber, and waiting to hear that he had 
breathed his last ; — she walked through the room 
with her apron thrown over her head. 

Trotter's Memoirs of Fox^ though incorrect in 
some particulars, is a very pleasing book. Trotter 
died in Ireland ; he was reduced to great straits ; 
and Mrs. Fox sent him, at different times, as much 
as several hundred pounds, though she could ill 
spare the money. 

How fondly the surviving friends of Fox cher- 
ished his memory ! Many years after his death, I 
was at a fete given by the Duke of Devonshire at 
Chiswick House. Sir Robert Adair and I wandered 
about the apartments, up and down stairs. " In 
which room did Fox expire ? " asked Adair. I re- 
plied, " In this very room." Immediately Adair 
burst into tears with a vehemence of giief such as 
I hardly ever saw exhibited by a man. 

Fox's HistoTij of the Early Part of the Reign 
of James the Second has been greatly undervalued; 
but it will be properly estimated in future times. It 
contains charming passages. Here are two : when 
I read them, I seem to listen to Fox conversing : — 



98 EECOLLEOTIONS OF THE 

"From the execution of the king to the death of 
Cromwell, the government was, with some variation 
of forms, in substance monarchical and absolute, as 
a government established by a military force will 
almost invariably be, especially when the exertions 
of such a force are continued for any length of time. 
If to this general rule our own age, and a people 
whom their origin and near relation to us would al- 
most waiTant us to call our own nation, have afforded 
a splendid and perhaps a solitary exception, we must 
reflect not only, that a character of virtues so happily 
tempered by one another, and so wholly unalloyed 
with any vices, as that of Washington, is hardly to 
be found in the pages of history, but that even 
"Washington himself might not have been able to 
act his most glorious of all parts, without the exist- 
ence of circumstances uncommonly favourable, and 
almost peculiar to the country which was to be 
the theatre of it. Virtue like his depends not in- 
deed upon time or place ; but although in no 
country or time would he have degraded himself 
into a Pisistratus, or a Csesar, or a Cromwell, he 
might have shared the fate of a Cato or a De Witt ; 
or, like Ludlow and Sydney, have mourned in 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 99 

exile the lost liberties of liis country." * — The other 
passage is this : — 

"But to Temple's sincerity his subsequent con- 
duct gives abundant testimony. When he had rea- 
son to think that his services could no longer be 
useful to his country, he withdrew wholly from 
public business, and resolutely adhered to the pre- 
ference of philosophical retirement, which, in his 
circumstances, was just, in spite of every temptation 
which occurred to bring him back to the more ac- 
tive scene. The remainder of his life he seems to 
have employed in the most noble contemplations 
and the most elegant amusements ; every enjoyment 
heightened, no doubt, b}^ reflecting on the honoura- 
ble part he had acted in public affairs, and without 
any regret on his own account (whatever he might 
feel for his country) at having been di-iven from 
them." f 



Burke said to Mrs. Crewe : :{: " A dull proser is 
more endurable than a dull joker." 

He also said to her : " England is a moon shone 

* p. 17.— Ed. t P- 26.— Ed. 

t Afterwards Lady Crewe. — Ed. 



too RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

upon by France. France has all things witliin her- 
self; and she possesses the power of recovering from 
the severest blows. England is an artificial conn- 
try : take away her commerce, and what has she ? " 



Foote was once talking away at a ^arty, when a 
gentleman said to him, " I beg your pardon, Mr. 
Foote, but your handkerchief is half-out of your 
pocket." — " Thank you, sir," answered Foote ; "you 
know the company better than I do." 

Fox told me that Lord William Bentinck once 
invited Foote to meet him and some others at dinner 
in St. James's Street ; and that they were rather 
angry at Lord William for having done so, expect- 
ing that Foote would prove only a bore, and a check 
on their conversation. "But," said Fox, "we soon 
found that we were mistaken : whatever we talked 
about, — whether fox-hunting, the turf, or any other 
subject, — Foote instantly took the lead, and de- 
lighted us all." 

Murphy who used to dwell with enthusiasm on 
his recollections of Chatham's oratory, was once in 
the gallery of the House with Foote, when Pitt 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 101 

(Lord Chatham) was putting forth all his power iu 
an attack on Murray (Lord Mansfield). " Shall we 
go home now?" said Murphy, — "No," replied 
Foote ; " let us wait till he has made the little man 
(Murray) vanish entirely." 

There was no end to Foote's jokes about G-ar- 
rick's parsimony. " Garrick," said Foote, "lately 
invited Hurd to dine with him in the Adelphi ; and 
after dinner, the evening being very warm, they 
walked up and down in front of the house. As they 
passed and re-passed the dining-room windows, Gar- 
rick was in a perfect agony ; for he saw that there 
was a thief in one of the candles which were burn- 
ing on the table : and yet Hurd was a person of 
such consequence that he could not run away from 
him to prevent the waste of his tallow." 

At the Chapter Coffee-house, Foote and his 
friends were making a contribution for the relief of 
a poor fellow (a decayed player, I believe), who was 
nick-named the Captain of the Four Winds, because 
his hat was worn into four spouts. Each person of 
the company dropped his mite into the hat, as it 
was held out to him. "If Garrick hears of this." 
said Foote, "he will certainly send us his hat." 



102 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

The then Duke of Cumberland (the foolish * 
Duke, as he was called) came one night into Foote's 
green-room at the Haymarket Theatre. " Well, 
Foote," said he, " here I am, ready, as usual, to 
swallow all your good things." — " Upon my soul," 
replied Foote, " your Royal Highness must have an 
excellent digestion, for you never bring any up 
as:ain." 



During my youth I used to go to the Hampstead 
Assemblies, which were frequented by a great deal 
of good company. There I have danced four or five 
minuets in one evening. 

Beau Nash was once dancing a minuet at Bath 
with a Miss Lunn. She was so long of giving him 
hoth her hands (the figure by which the lady, when 
she thinks proper, brings the performance to a close), 
that he lost all patience, and, suiting the words to 
the tune (which was Marshal Saxe's minuet), he 
sung out, as she passed him, — 

" Miss Lunn, Miss Lunn, 
Will you never have done? " 



* For a vindication of his Royal Highness from this epithet, see 
Boaflen's Life of Kemble, ii. 17. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 103 

I always distrust tlie accounts of eminent men 
by their Gontemjpovaries. JS^one of us lias any reason 
to slander Homer or Julius Caesar ; but we find it 
very difficult to divest oui-selves of prejudices when 
we are writing about persons with whom we have 
been acquainted. 



Lord St. Helens (who had been ambassador to 
Russia) told me, as a fact, this anecdote of the 
Empress Catherine. She frequently had little 
whist-parties, at which she sometimes played, and 
sometimes not. One night, when she was not play- 
ing, but walking about from table to table, and 
watching the different hands, she rang the bell to 
summon the page-in-waiting from an ante-chamber. 
No page appeared. She rang the bell again ; and 
again without effect. Upon this, she left the room, 
looking daggers, and did not return for a very con- 
siderable time ; the company supposing that the 
unfortunate page was destined for the knout or Si- 
beria. On entering the ante-chamber, the Empress 
found that the page, like his betters, was busy at 
whist, and that, when she had rung the bell, he 
happened to have so very interesting a hand that 



104 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

he could not make up his mind to quit it. Now, 
what did the Empress do ? she despatched the page 
on her errand, and then quietly sat down to hold 
his cards till he should return. 

Lord St. Helens also told me that he and S6gur 
were with the Empress in her carriage, when the 
horses took fright, and ran furiously down hill. The 
danger was excessive. When it was over the Em- 
press sai^j "Mon 6toile vous a sauvee." 



Hare's wit, once so famous, owed perhaps not a 
little to his manner of uttering it. Here is a speci- 
men. Fox was sitting at Brookes's, in a very moody 
humour, having lost a considerahle sum at cards, 
and was indolently moving a pen backwards and 
forwards over a sheet of paper. " "What is he draw- 
ing?" said some one to Hare. "Any thing hut a 
draft," was the reply. 

General Eitzpatrick was at one time nearly as 
famous for his wit as Hare. Dming the latter part 
of his long life he had withdrawn a good deal from 
society. I took farewell of him the day but one 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 105 

before he died. On the day immediately pi ecedmg 
his death, I walked to his house in Arlington Street 
to inquire for him ; and, just as I reached the door, 
Mrs. Fox was coming from it, sobbing violently. 

Jekyll, too, was celebrated for his wit : but it 
was of that kind which amuses only for the moment. 
I remember that when Lady Cork gave a party at 
which she wore a most enormous plume, Jekyll said, 
" She was exactly a shuttle-cock, — all cork and 
feathers." 



While Rousseau was lodging in Chiswick Ter- 
race, Fitzpatrick called upon him one day, and had 
not been long in the room when David Hume en- 
tered. Rousseau had lost a favourite dog ; and 
Hume, having exerted himself to recover it, now 
brought it back to its master, who thanked him 
with expressions of the most fervent gratitude, and 
shed tears of joy over the animal. 



Fitzpatrick, who had been much in the company 
of David Hume, used always to speak of him as " a 
delicious creature." 

5* 



106 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Hume told Cadell the bookseller that he had a 
great desire to be introduced to as many of the per- 
sons who had written against him as could be col- 
lected ; and requested Cadell to bring him and them 
together. Accordingly, Dr. Douglas, Dr. Adams, 
&c. &c., were invited by Cadell to dine at his house 
in order to meet Hume. They came ; and Dr. 
Price, who was of the party, assured me that they 
were all delighted with David. 



I knew Murphy long and intimately : I was in- 
troduced to him by the Piozzis at Streatham. 

On the first night of any of his plays, if the 
slightest symptoms of disapprobation were shown by 
the audience, Murphy always left the house, and took 
a walk in Covent-Garden Market : then, after having 
composed himself, he would return to the theatre. 

Garrick once, in conversation with Mui'phy, hav- 
ing insisted that it was much more difficult to write 
a play whose strength lay in the plot than one which 
depended on the dialogue for its effect. Murphy 
went to hisfa,vourite haunt, the Talbot at Richmond, 
and wrote, nearly at a single sitting, a comedy of the 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMTJEL ROGERS. 107 

former description (I forget its name), which, very- 
soon after, he presented to Garrick. 

The days had been when Murphy, lived in the 
best society, and used to walk about arm-in-arln with 
Lord Loughborough : but I have seen them meet in 
the street, and salute each other very formally. 

Towards the close of his life, till he received a 
pension of 200Z. per annum from the king,* Murphj 
was in great pecuniary difficulties. He had eaten him- 
self out of every tavern from the other side of Temple- 
Bar to the west end of the town. I have still in mj 
possession several bills of his for money to a consider- 
able amount which he never repaid me. — He had 
borrowed from me two hundred pounds ; and a long 
time having elapsed without his taking any notice of 
the debt, I became rather uneasy (for two hundred 
pounds was then no trifling sum to me). At last, 
meeting him in Fleet Street, I asked him when he 
should be able to settle with me. " Are you going 
home ? " said he. " Yes," I replied ; and we walked 
to my chambers in the Temple. There, instead of 
making any arrangements for repaying me, he ex- 

* The pension was granted to him in 1803 : he died in 1805. — 
Ed. 



108 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

erted all his eloquence, but in vain, to induce me to 
lend him more money ; and I thanked heaven when 
I got rid of him. — He assigned over to me the whole 
of his works, including his Tacitus ; and I soon found 
that lie had already disposed of them to a bookseller ! 
For this transaction Murphy came, in extreme agita- 
tion, to offer me a sort of apology, almost throwing 
himself on his knees. When he made his appear- 
ance, Porson and Maltby * happened to be in the 
room ; f but, Porson having said aside to Maltby, 
" We had better withdraw," they left me to my dis- 
agreeable conference Avith Murphy. 

One thing ought to be remembered to Murphy's 
honour : an actress,:}: with whom he had lived, be- 
queathed to him all her proj)erty, but he gave up 
every farthing of it to her relations. 

Murphy used to say that there were Four Estates 
in England, the King, the Lords, the Commons, and 
— the Theatres. ' He certainly would not say so, if 
he were alive now, when the national theatre is 
almost extinct. 



* See notice prefixed to the Porsoniana in this volume. — Ed. 
•f- Mr. Rogers was then lodgmg in Prince's Street, Hanover Sc[uare ; 
from which he removed to St. James's Place. — Ed. 
X Miss Elliot.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 109 

Henderson was a truly great actor ; liis Hamlet 
and liis Falstaff were truly good. He was a very 
fine reader too ; in his comic readings superior, of 
course, to Mrs. Siddons ; his John Gilpin was mar- 
vellous. 

He would frequently produce very unexpected 
"effects" in his readings: for instance, in the pas- 
sage of Collins's Ode to Fear^ — 

"Or throws him on the ridgy steep 
Of some loose-hanging rock to sleep ; " — 

he .would suddenly pause after the words "loose- 
hanging rock," and then, starting back as if in 
amazement, and lifting his arms above his head, he 
would slowly add — " to sleep ! " * 



Dm*ing-his boyhood, Pitt was very weakly; and 
his physician, Addington (Lord Sidmouth's father) 
ordered him to take port wine in large quantities : 
the consequence was, that, when he grew up, he 
could not do without it. Lord Grenville has seen 

* I must be allowed to observe, that I do not agree with Mr. 
Rogers in admiring the effect in question. It was certainly not in- 
tended by tlie Poet. — Ed. 



110 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

him swallow a bottle of port in tiimblerfuls, before 
going to the House. This, together with his habit 
of eating late suppers (indigestible cold veal-pies, 
(fee), helped undoubtedly to shorten his life. Hus- 
kisson, speaking to me of Pitt, said that his hands 
shook so much, that, when he helped himself to salt, 
he was obliged to support the right hand with the 
left. 

Stothard the painter happened to be one evening 
at an inn on the Kent Road, when Pitt and Dundas 
put up there on their way from Walmer. 'Next 
morning, as they were stepping into their carriage, 
the waiter said to Stothard, "Sir, do you observe 
these two gentlemen ? " — "Yes," he replied; "and 
I know them to be Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas." — • 
" Well, sir, how much wine do you suppose they 
drank last night ? " — Stothard could not guess. — 
" Seven bottles, sir." 

Lord Grenville once said to Pitt, " I am really 
astonished at your fluency in pubhc speaking : how 
was it acquired? " He replied, " I believe it may be 
attributed to this circumstance : when I was a lad, 
my father used every evening to make me translate 
freely, before him and the rest of the family, those 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJVIITEL ROGSUS. Ill 

portions of Livy, Virgil, &c., which I had read in 
the morning with my tutor, Mr. Wilson." — Lord 
Grenville engaged a reporter to take down Pitt's 
speeches ; but the reporter completely failed. 

Pitt had been accustomed when a boy to go a- 
bird-nesting at Holwood, and hence (according to 
Lord Grenville) his wish to possess that place ; which 
he eventually did. 

I was assured by Lord Grenville that Pitt came 
into office with a fixed determination to improve the 
iinances of the kingdom; instead of which he 
greatly injured them. 

I don't remember having heard of any hon-tnots 
being uttered by Pitt in society ; and those persons 
who were very intimate with him could tell me 
little in favour of his conversational powers : one 
great lady who knew him well, said that he was gen- 
erally quite silent in company ; and a second could 
give me no other information about him, but that 
(being a tall man) " he sat very high at table ! " 

There was a run on the Bank, and Pitt was un- 
certain what measures to take in consequence of it. 

He passed the whole night (as Mrs. told me) 

in walking up and down his drawing-room. Next 



112 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

morning lie sent for certain bankers, and informed 
them that he had resolved on issuing five-pound 
notes. — I recollect a farmer coming to my father's 
bank, and receiving his money in five-pound notes. 
"What can I do with these ? " he exclaimed ; "how- 
can I pay my men with them ? " 

Wilberforce requested Pitt to read Butler's Ana- 
logy.^ Pitt did so ; and was by no means satisfied 
with the reasoning in it. " My dear Wilberforce," 
he said, " you may prove any thing by analogy." 



Combe, author of The Didboliad^ of LordLyttel- 
ton's Letters, and, more recently, of Doctor Syntax's 
Three Tours, ^^ was a most extraordinary person. 
During a very long life, he had seen much of the 

* "One evening, at a party, when Butler's Analogy was men- 
tioned, Parr said ia his usual pompous manner, ' I shall not declare, 
before the present company, my opinion of that book.' Bowles, 
who was just then leaving the room, muttered, ' Nobody cares what 
you think of it.' Parr, overhearing him, roared out, 'What's that 
you say, Bowles ? ' and added, as the door shut on the offender, ' It's 
lucky that Bowles is gone ! for I should have put him to death.' " 
Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to the Porsoniana in this volume). 
— Ed. 

t And of an astonishing number of other works — all publ'shed 
anonymously. — E d. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 113 

world, — its lips and downs. He was certainly well- 
connected. Fitzpatrick recollected liim at Douay 
College.* He moved once in the highest society, and 
was very intimate with the Duke of Bedford. Twenty 
thousand pounds w^ere unexpectedly bequeathed to 
him by an old gentleman, who said "he ought to 
liave been Combe's father" (that is, he had been on 
the point of marrying Combe's mother), and who 
therefore left him that large sum. Combe contrived 
to get rid of the money in an incredibly short time. 
Combe was staying at the house of Uvedale 
Price ; f and the Honourable Mr. St. John (author 
of Mary Queen of Scots % was there also. Tlie lat- 
ter, one morning, missed some bank-notes. Price, 
strongly suspecting who had taken them, mentioned 
the circumstance to Combe, and added, " Perhaps it 
would be as well if you cut short your visit here." — 

* According to The. Gentlenum's Magazine for August, 1823, p. 185 
(where his name is wrongly spelled Coonibe), "he was educated at 
Eton and Oxford :" which is not inconsistent with his having been at 
Douay also. But there seems to be great uncertamty about the par- 
ticulars of his life. — Ed. 

t Afterwards a baronet. — Ed. 

I A very dull tragedy, in which Mrs. Siddons continued to act the 
heroine occasionally up to the time of her retirement from the stage. 
—Ed. 



114 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

" Oh, certainly," replied Combe with tne greatest 
coolness ; " and allow me just to ask, whether hence- 
forth we are to be friends or acquaintances ? " — 
" Acquaintances, if you please," said Price.* — Long 
after this had happened, I was passing through Lei- 
cester Square with Price, when we met Combe : we 
both spoke to him ; but from that hour he always 
avoided me. 

Combe assured me that it was with hini, not with 
Sterne, that " Eliza" f was in love ; that he used to 
meet her often beside a windmill near Brighton : 
that he was once surprised in her bed-chamber, and 
fled through the window, leaving one of his shoes 

* From tlie tone of some letters written by Combe in his old 
age, one would certainly not suppose that he had on his conscience 
any thing of the kind above alluded to. " The only solid happiness 
in this life," he says, "is the performance of duty; the rest, when 
compared with it, is not worth a regret or a remembrance. . . 
A thousand hours of pleasurable gratification will weigh but as dust 
in the balance against one hour of solid vii-tue. . . . Few men 
have enjoyed more of the pleasures and brilliance of life than myself; 
and you, I well know, wiU believe me, when I assure you that, in 
looking back upon it, the brightest mtervals of it are those wherein 
I resisted inclination, checked impetuosity, overcame temptation, 
frowned folly out of countenance, or shed a tear over the unfortunate." 
Letters to Marianne, p. 7. — Ed. 

f A list of Combe's writings, drawn up by himself, and printed 
in The GemtlemmCs Magazine for May 1852, p. 467, includes "Letters 
supposed to have passed between Sterne and Eliza, 2 vols." — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 115 

behind liim ; that, some days after, he encoLiitered 
her as she was walking with a party on what is now 
the Steyne (at Brighton), and that, as she passed him, 
she displayed from her muif the toe of his shoe ! 

Combe died in the King's Bench,* where it was 
said that he had taken refuge in order to cheat his 
creditors. — erroneously, for he did not leave enough 
to pay the expenses of his funeral. 



Gibbon took very little exercise. He had been 
staying some time with Lord Sheffield in the coun- 
try ; and when he was about to go away, the ser- 
vants could not find his hat. " Bless me," said Gib- 
bon, " I certainly left it in the hall on my arrival 
here." He had not stirred out of doors during the 
whole of the visit. 



These lines by Bishop (Head-master of Merchant 
Tailor's School) are very good in their way : — ■ 

* He died, June 19th, 1823, at his apartments in Lambeth Road, 
in his 82d year. See The GmdUmaifCs Magazine for August 1823, 
p. 185.— Ed. 



116 BECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

" To Mrs. Bishop, with a Present of a Kmfe, 

' A knife,' dear girl, ' cuts love,' they say ! 
Mere modish love, perhaps it may ; 
For any tool of any kind, 
Can separate — what was never join'd. 

The knife that cuts our love in two 
Will have much tougher work to do ; 
Must cut your softness, truth, and spirit, 
Down to the vulgar size of merit ; 
To level yours with modern taste. 
Must cut a world of sense to waste ; 
And from your single beauty's store 
Clip what would dizen out a score. 

That self-same blade from me must sever 
Sensation, judgment, sight, for ever ; 
All memory of endearments past, 
All hope of comforts long to last ; 
All that makes fourteen years with you 
A summer, — and a short one too ; 
All that affection feels and fears. 
When hours without you seem like years. 

Till that be done (and I'd as soon 
Believe this knife will chip the moon), 
Accept my present, undeterr'd. 
And leave their proverbs to the herd. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 117 

If in a kiss — delicious treat ! — 
Your lips acknowledge the receipt, 
. Love, fond of sucli substantial fare, 
And proud to play tbe glutton there, 
All thoughts of cutting will disdain, 
Save only — ' cut and come again. ' 



I never saw Paley ; l3nt my brother knew him 
well, and liked hina much. Paley used to say, in his 
broad dialect, " I am an advocate for corrooption " 
(that is, parliamentary influence).* 



* Among several anecdotes of Paley, communicated to me long 
ago by a gentleman -vrlio resided in the neigbbourhood, were these. — 
When Paley rose in the church, he set up a carriage, and, by his wife's 
directions, his arms were painted on the panels. They were copied 
from tbe engraving on a silver cup, which Mrs. P. supposed to be the 
bearings of his family. Paley thought it a pity to undeceive his wife ; 
but the truth was, he had purchased the cup at a sale. 

He permitted — nay, wished — his daughters to go to evening parties ; 
but insisted that one of them should always remain at home, to give 
her assistance, if needed, by rubbing him, &c., in case of an attack 
of the rheumatic pains to which he was subject. " This," he said, 
" taught them natural affection." 

His fourth son chose to be a farmer, and was sent by his 
father to Redburn, where, in order to train him to his business, he 
was frequently employed in works of manual labour. A friend, 
having seen the young man so occupied, expressed his surprise at 



lis RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Witticisms are often attributed to the wrong 
people. It was Lord Chesterfield, not Sheridan, who 
said, on occasion of a certain marriage, that " "No- 
bodj's son had married Everybody's daughter." 

Lord Chesterfield remarked of two persons danc- 
ing a minuet, that " they looked as if they were 
hired to do it, and were doubtful of being paid." 

I once observed to a Scotch lady, " how desira- 
ble it was in any danger to have prese^ice of mind. ^'' 
" I had rather," she rejoined, " have absence of 
hody.''^ 



The mechant Lord Lyttelton used to play all sorts 
of tricks in his boyhood. For instance, when he 
knew that the larder at Hagley happened to be ill 
supplied, he would invite, in his father's name, a 
large party to dinner ; and, as the carriages drove 
up the avenue, the old lord (concealing his vexation 
as much as possible) would stand bowing in the hall, 
to welcome his unwelcome guests. 

the circumstance to Paley, who replied, " Practice, practice is every 
thing." 

Of the card-playing Curate of G. and his wife, he used to say that 
" they made much more by whist than by the curacy." — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 119 

There is at Hagley a written account of the 
Tiiechant Lord Lj'-ttelton's death, which was read to 
me while on a visit there. The statement, as far as 
I can recollect, runs thus. One night, when he was 
in bed, a white bird, with a voice like a woman's, — 
or else, a female figure with a bird on her hand, — • 
appeared to him, and told him that he must die at a 
particular hour on a particular night. He related 
the circumstance to some of his friends, who en- 
couraged him in treating it as a delusion. Tlie fatal 
night arrived. He was then at a house (Pitt Place) 
near Epsom ; and had appointed to meet a party on 
the downs next morning. His friends, without his 
knowledge, had put back the clock, " I shall cheat 
the ghost yet," he said. On getting into bed, he 
sent his servant down stairs for a spoon, having to 
take some medicine. When the servant returned. 
Lord Lyttelton was a corpse.* 



* In the " Corrections and Additions," p. 36, to Nash's History 
of Worcestershire, is an account of Lord Lyttelton's vision and 
death, more detailed than the above, hut not materially different. — 
Ed. 

Of Lord Lyttelton's ghost appearing to Miles Peter Andrews 
(an anecdote quite as notorious as that above) the following account 
was given by Andrev/s himself to his most intimate friend, Mr 



120 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Trequeiitly, when doubtful liow to act in matters 
of importance, I have received more useful advice 
from women than from men. Women have the un- 
derstanding of the heart / which is better than that 
of the head. 



As I was walking home one day from my father's 
bank, I observed a great crowd of people streaming 
into a chapel in the City JRoad. I followed them ; 
And saw laid out, upon a table, the dead body of a 
clergyman in full canonicals. It was the corpse of 
John Wesley ; and the crowd moved slowly and 

Morton the dramatist, by whom it was told to me. " I was at Rich- 
mond : and I had not been long in bed, when I saw Lord Lyttelton 
standing at the foot of it. I felt no surprise, because he was in the 
habit of coming to me at all hours without previous announcement. 
I spoke to him ; but he did not answer. Supposing that he intended, 
as usual, to play me some trick, I stooped out of bed, and taking up 
one of my slippers, I threw it at him. He vanished. Next morning, 
I inquired of the people of the house when Lord Lyttelton had 
arrived, and where he was ? They declared that he had not arrived. 
He died at the very moment I saw him." A version of this ghost- 
story, too, is given by Nash (w&i supra), who states that Andrews 
addressed the ghost, and that " the ghost, shaking his head, said, 
' It is all over with me,' " But Mr. Morton assured me that he re- 
lated the story exactly as he Imd had it from Andreics, whose convic- 
tion that he had seen a real spectre was proof against all arguments. 
— Ei.. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 121 

silently round and round the table, to take a last 
look at that most venerable man.* 



Dr. Priestley went to Paris in company with 
Lord Shelburne ; f and he assured me that all the 
eminent Frenchmen whom he met there were en- 
tirely destitute of any religious belief, — sheer athe- 
ists. At a large dinner-party he asked his next 
neighbour, " "Who is that gentleman? " The answer 

was, " It is ; and he believes no more than you 

and I do.'''' — Marmontel used to read some of his 
unpublished works to parties of his friends, on cer- 
tain days, at his own house. Priestley, who attended 

* "At the desire of many of Ms friends, his body was carried 
into the chapel the day preceding the interment, and there lay in a 
kind of state becoming his person, dressed in his clerical habit, with 
gown, cassock, and band ; the old clerical cap on his head, a Bible 
in one hand, and a white handkerchief in the other. The face was 
placid, and the expression which death had fixed upon bis venerable 
features was that of a serene and heavenly smile. The crowds who 
flocked to see him were so great, that it was thought prudent, for fear 
of accidents, to accelerate the funeral, and perform it between five and 
six in the morning," &c. Southey's Life of Wesley, ii. 562, ed. 1820. 
Wesley died 2d March 1791. — Ed. 

t Afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne — to whom, nominally, Priest- 
ley acted as librarian, but really as his literary companion. It was in 
1774 that they made a tour to the continent. — Ed. 
6 



122 KECOIiLEOTIONS OF THE 

a few of those readings, declared that Marmontel 
occasionally gesticulated with snch violence, that it 
was necessary to keej) out of the reach of his arms, 
for fear of being knocked down. 

I was intimately acquainted with Dr. Priestley ; 
and a more amiable man never lived ; he was all 
gentleness, kindness, and humility. He was once 
dining with me, when some one asked him (rather 
rudely) "how many books he had published?" 
He replied, " Many more, sir, than I should like to 
read." Before going to America he paid me a 
visit, passing a night at my house. He left Eng- 
land chiefly in compliance with the wishes of his 
wife. 



"When Home Tooke was at school, the boys 
asked him " what his father was ? " Tooke answered, 
" A Turkey merchant." (He was a poulterer.) 

He once said to his brother,* a pompous man, 

* In repeating this anecdote, Mr. Rogers sometimes substituted 
"cousin" for ^'■hrother." — ^Tooke had two brothers. 1. Benjamin 
Tooke, who settled at Brentford as a market-gardener, in which line 
he became eminent, and acquired considerable wealth. 2. Thomas 
Tooke, who was originally a fishmonger, and afterwards a poulterer, 
— a man, it is said, of strong intellect, but certainly careless and 



TABLE-TALK <>F SAMUEL EOGEES. 123 

"' You and I have reversed the natural course of 
things ; you have risen by your gravity ; I have 
sunk by my levity." 

To Judge Ashhurst's remark, that the law was 
open to all, both to the rich and to the poor, Tooke 
replied, " So is the London Tavern." 

He said that Hume wrote his History as witches 
say their prayers — ^backwards. 

Tooke told me that in his early days a friend 
gave him a letter of introduction to D'Alembert at 
Paris. Dressed d-lormode, he presented the letter, 
and was very courteously received by D'Alembert, 
who talked to him about operas, comedies, and sup- 
pers, &c. Tooke had expected conversation on 
very different topics, and was greatly disappointed. 
When he took leave, he was followed by a gentle- 
man in a plain suit, who had been in the room 
during his interview with D'Alembert, and who had 
perceived his chagrin. " D'Alembert," said the 
gentleman, " supposed from your gay apparel that 
you were merely a petit maitre^ The gentleman 
was David Hume. On his next visit to D'Alem- 

extravagant ; and who ended his career in one of the almshouses be- 
longing to the Fishmongers' Company. — Ed. 



124 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

bert, Tooke's dress was altogether different ; and so 
was the conversation.* 

Tooke went to Italy as tntor to a young man of 
fortune,f who was subject to fits of insanity, and 
who consequently would sometimes occasion much 
alarm at inns during the middle of the night. — ^ While 
residing at Genoa, they formed an acquaintance with 
an Italian family of distinction, by whom they were 
introduced to the best society of the place. Tooke 
attached himself to a lady of great beauty, becoming 
her cavalier servente, and attending her everywhere. 
After some weeks, at a large evening-party, he was 
astonished to find that the lady would not speak to 
him, and that the rest of the company avoided con- 
versation with him, " ISTow," said Tooke, " what do 
you imagine was the cause of this ? Why, they had 
discovered that I was a Protestant clergyman ! But 

* Tooke spent considerably more than a year at Paris, while act- 
ing as travelling-tutor to young Elwes (son of the miser) ; and he 
afterwards paid two short visits to that capital in company with young 
Taylor (see next note). It was, I apprehend, on the first of these 
occasions that his introduction to D'Alemhert took place. He was in 
full orders before he ever went to the Continent ; but he always laid 
aside the clerical dress at Dover. — Ed. 

f The son of a Mr. Taylor, who resided within a few miles of 
Brentford. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 125 

I was resolved not to be brow-beaten ; and I made 
myself so agreeable, that, before the party broke 
up, we were all again on the very best terms ; some 
of them even waited on me home, with music, in a 
sort of triumph ! " * 

Soon after Tooke had left Genoa, he heard that 
another traveller, who was following the same route, 
had been assassinated. This unfortunate traveller 
was mistaken for Tooke, on whom, in consequence 
of his intrigue with the lady at Genoa, the blow had 
been intended to fiill. 

I have been present when one of Tooke's daugh- 
ters was reading Greek f to him with great facility. 
He had made her learn that language without using 
a grammar, — only a dictionary. 

I paid five guineas (in conjunction with Bod- 
dington) for a loge at Tooke's trial. — It was the cus- 
tom in those days (and perhaps is so still) to place 
bunches of strong smelling plants of different sorts 
at the bar where the criminal was to sit (I sup- 

* One of those letters, in which Wnkes publicly addressed Home 
Tooke, has the following passage ; " Will you caU an Italian gentle- 
man now in town, your confidant during your whole residence at Genoa, 
to testify the morality of your conduct in Italy ? " 

f Latin, I suspect. — Ed. 



126 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

pose, to purify the air from the contagion of his 
presence!). This was done at Tooke's trial ; but, 
as soon as he was brought in, he indignantfy swept 
them away with his handkerchief. The trial lasted 
six days. Erskine (than whom nobody had ever 
more power over a jury, — ^he would frequently ad- 
dress them as " his little twelvers ") defended Tooke 
most admirably : nay, he showed himself not only 
a great orator, but a great actor ; for, on the fifth 
day, when the Attorney-General, Eldon, was address- 
ing the jury, and was using a line of argument 
which Erskine had n-ot expected and could not reply 
to (the pleading for the prisoner being closed), I well 
remember how Erskine the whole time kept turning 
towards the jury, and by a series of significant looks, 
shrugs, and shakings of his head, did all he could to 
destroy the effect of what the Attorney-General was 
saying. — After a very long speech, Eldon, with the 
perspiration streaming do^n his face, came into the 
room where the Lord Mayor was sitting, and ex- 
claimed, " Mr. Tooke says that he would like to send 
Mr. Pitt to Botany Bay; but it would be more 
merciful to make him Attorney-General." — ^Wlien 
Eldon was told that the mob had taken away the 



TABLE-TALK OF S.^MUEL E0GEE8. 127 

horses from Erskine's carriage, and drawn him home 
in triumph to Sergeants' Inn, he asked " If they had 
ever Teturned therrh f " 

At the conclusion of the trial, a daughter of one 
of the jurymen was anxious to be introduced to 
Tooke ; who, shaking her by the hand, said very 
prettily, " I must call you sister, for you are the 
daughter of one of those to whom I owe my life." — 
If Tooke had been convicted, there is no doubt that 
he would have been hanged. "We lived then under 
a reign of terror. 

One night after dining wil^ him at Cline's (the 
surgeon), I accompanied Tooke to Brandenburgh 
House (the Margravine of Anspach's) to see a pri- 
vate play. During the performance, a person be- 
hind us said, " There's that rascal. Home Tooke." 
Tlie words were uttered quite distinctly ; and Tooke 
was so offended, that he immediately withdrew. I 
went home with him to his house on the Common, 
and slept there, after sitting up very late to listen 
to his delightful talk. 

I often dined with Tooke at Wimbledon ; and 
always found him most pleasant and most witty. 
There his friends would drop in upon him without 



128 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

any invitation : Colonel Bosville would coine fre- 
quently, bringing with him a dinner from Loudon, 
— ^fish, &c. — ^Tooke latterly used to expect two or 
three of his most intimate friends to dine with him 
every Sunday ; and I once oifended him a good 
deal by not joining his Sunday dinner-parties for 
several weeks. 

Burdett was, of course, a great deal with Tooke. 
In little things, Burdett Avas a very inconsiderate 
person. One forenoon, when Tooke was extremely 
unwell, and a friend had sent him some fine hot- 
house grapes, Burdqj^t, happening to call in, ate up 
every one of them. 

Tooke was such a passionate admirer of Milton's 
prose works, that, as he assured me, he had tran 
scribed them all in his youth. 

For my own part, I like Harris's writings much. 
But Tooke thought meanly of them : he would say, 
" Lord Malmesbury is as great a fool as liisfatherr 

He used to observe, that " though the books 
which you have lately read may make no strong 
impression on you, they nevertheless improve your 
mind ; just as food, though we forget what it was 
ifter we have eaten it, gives strength to the body." 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 129 

O, the fallibility of medical people ! Both Pear- 
son and Cline, on one occasion, informed Tooke that 
he could not possibly survive beyond a single day: 
and — he lived years ! * — Let me mention here what 
was told to me by a lady at Clifton. "In my girl- 
hood," she said, " I had a very severe illness, during 
which I heard Dr. Turton declare to my mother, in 
the next room, that I could not live. I immediately 
called out, ' But I will live. Dr. Turton ! ' and here 
I am, now sixty years old." 



* In a note on Boswell's Life of Johnson (p. 562, ed. 1848), 
relative to Lord Mayor Beckford's famous speech (or rather, re- 
joinder) to the king in 1770, Mr. Croker observes ; "Mr. Bosville's 
manuscript note on this passage says, ' that the monument records, 
not the words of Beckford, but what was prepared for him by John 
Home Tooke, as agreed on at a dinner at Mr. George Bellas's in 
Doctors' Commons.' This, I think, is also stated in a manuscript 
note in the Museum copy ; but Mr. Gifford says, ' he never uttered 
one syllable of the speech.' {Ben Jonson, i. 481.) Perhaps he said 
something which was afterwards put into its present shape by Home 
Tooke." — In Stephens's Memoirs of Borne Tooke (vol. i. 155-7) 
we have the following account. "This answer [of the king] had 
been, of course, anticipated, and Mr. Home, who was determined 
to give celebrity to the mayoralty of his friend, Mr. Beckford, at 
the same time that he supported the common cause, had suggested 
the idea of a reply to the sovereign ; a measure hitherto unexampled 
in our history." Stephens then proceeds to say that the Lord Mayor 
" expressed himself nearly as follows," &c. ; and presently adds, 
6* 



130 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Hoole, the son of the translator of Ariosfco, wrote 
a poem entitled The Oiirate^^ which is by no means 
bad. I knew him when he was a private tntor. 



What strange meetings sometimes occnr ! Rich- 
ard Sharp, when a young man, was making a tour 
in Scotland with a friend. They arrived one night 
at Glencoe, and could get no lodgings at the inn ; 

" This, as Mr. Home lately acknowledged to me, was Ms composi- 
tion." — I now quote tlie words of Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed 
to the Porsoniana in this volume). "I was dining at Guildhall in 
1790, and sitting next to Dr. C. Bumey, when he assured me that 
Beckford did not utter one syllable of the speech — that it was 
wholly the invention of Home Tooke. Being very intimate with 
Tooke, I lost no time in questioning him on the subject. 'What 
Burney states,' he said, ' is true.' I saw Beckford just after he came 
from St. James'3. I asked him what he had said to the king ; and 
he replied, thaf he had been so confused, he scarcely knew what he 
had said. ' But,' cried I, ' i/our speech must be sent to the papers ; 
I'll write it for you.' I did so immediately, and it was printed 
forthwith.' " 

These various statements enable us to arrive at the exact truth ; 
viz. that Tooke suggested to Beckford (if he did not write them down) 
the heads of a rejoinder to the king's reply — that Beckford, losing 
his presence of mind, made little or no use of them — and that the 
famous speech (or rejoinder) which is engraved on the pedestal of 
Beckford's statue in Guildhall, was the elaborate composition of 
Home Tooke. — Ed. 

* Edward, or the Curate ; hy the Rev. Samuel Hoole, 1787, 4to. His 
Poems were collected in two vols., 1790. — Ed. 



TABLE-TAX,K OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 131 

but tliey were told by the landlord that there lived 
in the neighbourhood a "laird" who was always 
ready to show kindness to strangers, and who would 
doubtless receive them into his house. Thither they 
went, and were treated with the greatest hospitality. 
In the course of conversation, the "laird" mentioned 
JSTewfoundland as a place familiar to him, " Have 
you been there ? " asked Sharp. " Yes," he replied, 
" I spent some time there, when I was in the army ; " 
and he went on to say that, while there, he enjoyed 
the society of the dearest friend he had ever had, a 
gentleman named Sharp. "Sir, I am the son of 
that very gentleman." The " laird " thi*ew his arms 
round Sharp's neck, and embraced him with a flood 
of tears. 

Sharp's little volume of Letters and Essays is 
hardly equal to his reputation. He had given great 
attention to metaphysics, and intended to publish a 
work on that subject, the result of much thought 
and reading. One day, as we were walking together 
near TJlswater, I put some metaphysical question to 
him, when he stopped me short at once by saying, 
"There are only two men* in England with whom 

* Meaning, I believe, Macldntosli and Bobus Smitli. — ^Ed 



133 BECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

1 ever talk on metaphysics.'" This was not very 
flattering to me ; and it so offended my sister, that 
she said I ought immediately to have ordered a 
postchaise, and left him there. 



I have always understood that the oration of 
Pericles in Smith's Thucydides was translated by 
Lord Chatham. 



Yernon was the person who invented the story 
about the lady being pulverised in India by a cowp 
de soleil : — when he was dining there with a Hindoo, 
one of his host's wives was suddenly reduced to 
ashes ; upon which, the Hindoo rang the hell^ and 
said to the attendant who answered it, " Bring fresh 
glasses, and sweep up your mistress." 

Another of his stories was this. He happened 
to be shooting hyenas near Carthage, when he stum- 
bled, and fell down an abyss of many fathoms' depth. 
He was surprised, however, to find himself unhurt ; 
for he lighted as if on a feather-bed. Presently he 
perceived that he was gently moved upwards ; and, 
having by degrees reached the mouth of the abyss, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 133 

he again stood safe on terra firma. He had fallen 
upon an immense mass of bats, which, disturbed 
from their slumbers, had risen out of the abyss and 
brought him up with them. 



I knew Joseph "Warton well. When Matthias 
attacked him in The Pursuits of Literature for re- 
printing some loose things* in his edition of Pope, 
Joseph wrote a letter to me, in which he called 
Matthias " \\hjpious critic," — rather an odd expres- 
sion to come from a clergyman. — He certainly ought 
not to have given that letter of Lord Cobham.f 

I never saw Thomas Warton. I once called at 
the house of Robinson the bookseller for Dr. Kippis, 
who used to introduce me to many literary parties, 
and who that evening was to take me to the Society 
of Antiquaries. He said, " Tom Warton is up 
stairs." How I now wish that I had gone up and 

* The Imitation of the Second Satire of the First Booh of Horace, and 
the chapter of "The Double Mistress," in the Memoirs of Scrihlerus: 
Matthias also objected to " a few trumpery, vulgar copies of verses 
which disgrace the pages." — Ed. 

\ See J. Warton's Life of Pope, p. li. The letter had been pre- 
viously printed — in the duUest of all biographies, Rufifhead's Life of 
Pope, p. 276.— Ed. 



IM KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

seen Mm ! His little poem, The Suicide^ is a favour- 
ite of mine. — ISTor did I ever see Gibbon, or Cow- 
per, or Plorace Walpole : and it is truly provoking 
to reflect that I might have seen them ! 



There is no doubt that Matthias wrote The Ptir- 
suits of Literaty/re ; and a dull poem it is, though 
the notes are rather piquant. 

Gilbert Wakefield used to say, he was certain 
that Kennell and Glynn assisted Matthias in it ; and 
Wakefield was well acquainted with all the three. 

Steevens once said to Matthias, "Well, sir, since 
you deny the authorship of The Pursuits (f Litera- 
ture, I need have no hesitation in declaring to you 
that the perso i who wrote it is a liar and a black- 
guard." 

In one of the notes was a statement that Beloe 
had received help from Porson in translating Al- 
ciphron. Porson accordingly went to Beloe, and 
said, " As you know that I did not help you, pray, 
write to Matthias and desire him to alter that note." 
In a subsequent edition the note was altered. 

One day I asked Matthias if he wrote The Pur- 
suits of Literature ; and he answered, " My dear 



TAJBLE-TALK OF SAl^IUEL ROGERS. 135 

friend, can you suppose that I am the author of that 
poem, when there is no mention made in it of your- 
self? " Some time after, I happened to call on Lord 
Besborough, who told me, that, as he was illustrat- 
ing The Pursuits of Literature with portraits, he 
wanted to get one of me. "Why," exclaimed I, 
" there is no mention in it of 7ne ! " He then turned 
to the note where I am spoken of as the banker who 
" dreams on Parnassus."* 



What popularity Cowper's Task enj oy ed ! John- 
son, the publisher, told me that, in consequence of 
the great number of copies which had been sold, he 
made a handsome present to the author. 

In order to attain general popularity, a poem 
must have (what it is creditable to our countrymen 
that they look for) a strong religious tendency, and 

* Let me present a short passage from a Letter to Mr. Pitt 
on the occasion of the Triple Assessment. ' Things, sir, are now 
changed. Time was, when hankers were as stupid as their guineas 
could make them ; they were neither orators, nor painters, nor poets. 
But now Mr. Dent has a speech and a hitch at your service; Sir 
Robert has his pencU and canvas ; and Mr. Rogers dreams on Par- 
nassus ; and, if I am rightly informed, there is a great demand 
among his brethren for the Pleasures of Memory.^" P. 360, ed. 1808. 
—Ed. 



136 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

must treat of subjects which require no previous 
knowledge in the readers. Cowper's Poems are 
of that description. 

Here are two fine lines in Cowper's Task ; * 

" Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much ; 
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more." 

Sometimes in his rhymed poetry the verses run with 
all the ease of prose : for instance, — 

" The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown." f 



Cumberland was a most agreeable companion, 
and a very entertaining converser. His theatrical 
anecdotes were related with infinite spirit and hu- 
mour ; his description of Mrs. Siddons coming off the 
stage in the full flush of triumph, and walking up to 
the mirror in the green-room to survey herself, was 
admirable. He said that the three finest pieces of 
acting which he had ever witnessed, were Garrick's 
Lear, Henderson's Falstaff, and Cooke's lago. 

* Book vi. — Ed. 

■j- An Epistle to cm afflicted Protestant Lady in France. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJSITJEL K0GER8. 13Y 

When Cumberland was composing any work, he 
never shnt himself nj) in his stuclj : he always wrote 
in the room where his family sat, and did not feel 
the least disturbed by the noise of his children at 
play beside him.* 

Lord Holland and Lord Lansdowne having ex- 
pressed a wish to be introduced to Cumberland, I 
invited all the three to dine with me. It happened, 
however, that the two lords paid little or no atten- 
tion to Cumberland (though he said several very 
good things), — scarcely speaking to him the whole 
time : something had occurred in the House which 
occupied all their thoughts ; and they retired to a 
window, and discussed it. 



Mitford, the historian of Greece, possessed, be- 
sides his learning, a wonderful variety of accomplish- 
ments. I always felt the highest respect for him. 
When, not long before his death, I used to meet him 
in the street, bent almost double, and carrying a long 
staff in his hand, he reminded me of a venerable 
pilgrim just come from Jerusalem. — His account of 

* Compare Cumberland's Memoirs, i. 264, ii. 204. — Ed. 



138 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

tlie Homeric age, — of the Sicilian cities, — and sev- 
eral otlier parts of his History, are very pleasing. 



Lane made a large fortune by the immense quan- 
tity of trashy novels which he sent forth from his 
Minerva-press. I perfectly well remember the splen- 
did carriage in which he used to ride, and his foot- 
men with their cockades and gold-headed canes. 

JSTow-a-days, as soon as a novel has had its run, 
and is beginning to be forgotten, out comes an edi- 
tion of it as a " standard novel ! " 



One afternoon, at Court, I was standing beside 
two intimate acquaintances of mine, an old nobleman 
and a middle-aged lady of rank, when the former 
remarked to the latter that he thought a certain 
young lady near us was uncommonly beautiful. The 
middle-aged lady replied, " I cannot see any par- 
ticular beauty in her." — " Ah, madam," he rejoined, 
" to us old men youth always appears beautiful ! " 
(a speech with which Wordsworth, when I repeated 
it to him, was greatly struck). — The fact is, till we 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEKS. 139 

are about to leave the world, we do not perceive 
how much it contains to excite our interest and ad- 
miration : the sunsets appear to me far lovelier now 
than thew were in other years ; and the bee upon 
the flower is now an object of curiosity to me, which 
it was not in my early days. 



With the exception of some good lines, such 
as, — 

" Hell in his heart, and Tyburn in his face," * 

Churchill's poetry is, to my thinking, but mediocre ; 
and for such poetry I have little toleration ; though 
perhaps, when I recollect my own writings, I ought 
not to make the remark. 

I am not sure that I do not prefer Wolcot (Pe- 
ter Pindar) to Churchill. — ^Wolcot's Oijpsy\ is very 
neat. 

[" A wandering gipsy, sirs, am I, 
From Norwood, where we oft complain, 
With many a tear and many a sigh, 
Of blustering winds and rushing rain. 

* Not iuserted ia Wolcot's Poet. Works, 5 vols. — Ed. 
f The, Authm-.—Ei). 



140 BECOLLE0TION8 OF THE 

No costly rooms or gay attire 
Within our humble shed appear ; 
No beds of down, or blazing fire, 
At night our shivering limbs to cheer. 

Alas, no friend comes near our cot ! 
The redbreasts only find the way, 
Who give their all, a simple note. 
At peep of morn and parting day. 

But fortunes here I come to tell, — 
Then yield me, gentle sir, your hand : — 
Within these lines what thousands dwell, — 
And, bless me, what a heap of land ! 

It surely, sir, must pleasing be 
To hold such wealth in every line : 
Try, pray, now try, if you can see 
A little treasure lodg'd in mine." ] 

And there can hardly be a better line of its kind 
than this, — 

" Kill half a cow, and turn the rest to grass." * 



In company with my sister, I paid a visit to 
Gilbert Wakefield when he was in Dorchester Gaol. 

* Complwnentary Epistle to James Boswdl, Esq. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAISIUEL EOGEKS. 141 

His confinement was made as pleasant to him as 
possible ; for he had nearly an acre of ground to walk 
about in. But, still, the sentence passed upon him 
was infamous : what rulers we had in those days ! 

Wakefield gave Beloe some assistance in trans- 
lating Aulus Gellius. 



At a splendid party given by Lord Hampden to 
the Prince of "Wales, &c., I saw Lady Hamilton go 
through all those "attitudes" which have been en- 
graved ; and her performance was very beautiful 
indeed. Her husband. Sir William, was present. 

Lord Nelson was a remarkably kind-hearted man. 
I have seen him spin a teetotum with his one hand, 
a whole evening, for the amusement of some children. 
I heard him once during dinner utter many bitter 
complaints (which Lady Hamilton vainly attempted 
to check) of the way he had been treated at court 
that forenoon : the Queen had not condescended to 
take the slightest notice of him. In truth, Kelson 
was hated at court ; they were jealous of his fame. 

There was something very charming in Lady 
Hamilton's openness of manner. She showed me the 



142 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

neckcloth wliicli Nelson had on when he died : of 
course I could not help looking at it with extreme 
interest; and she threw her arms round my neck and 
kissed me. — She was latterly in great want ; and 
Lord Stowell never rested till he procured for her a 
small pension from government. 



Parson Este * was well acquainted with Mrs. 
Robinson (the once-celebrated Perdita), and said 
that Fox had the greatest difficulty in persuading 
the Prince of Wales to lend her some assistance, 
when, towards the close of life, she was in very 
straitened circumstances. Este saw her funeral, 
which was attended by a single mourning coach.f 



A person once asserted that in a particular coun- 

* See pp. 58, 59. 

f Poor Perdita had some poetic talent: and it was acknowledged 
by Coleridge, whose lines to her, " As late on Skiddaw's mount I lay 
supine," &c., are not to be found in the recent collections of his 
poems. See, at p. xlviii. of the Tributary Poems prefixed to Mrs. 
Robinson's Poetical Worhs, 3 vols., "/I Stranger Minstrel. By S. T. 
Coleridge, Esq., written a few weeks before her death," and dated " Nov. 
1800."— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. 143 

tiy the bees were as large as sheej). He was asked 
"How big, then, are the hives?" — "Oh," he re- 
plied, " the usual size." 



I knew Jane Duchess of Gordon intimately, and 
many pleasant hours have I passed in her society. 
She used to say, "I have been acquainted with 
David Hume and William Pitt, and therefore I am 
not afraid to converse with any body." 

The Duchess told the following anecdote to Lord 
Stowell, who told it to Lord Dunmore, who told it 
to me. " The son of Lord Cornwallis [Lord Brome] 
fell in love with my daughter Louisa ; and she liked 
him much. They were to be married ; but the in- 
tended match was broken off by Lord C, whose 
only objection to it sprung from his belief that there 
was madness in my husband's family. Upon this I 
contrived to have a tete-d-tete with Lord C, and 
said to him, ' I know your reason for disapproving 
of your son's marriage with my daughter : now, I 
will tell you one thing plainly ,^ — there is not a drop 
of the Gordon hlood in Louisa's hody^ With this 
statement Lord C. was quite satisfied, and the mar- 



144 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

riage took place." Tlie Duchess prided herself 
greatly on the success of this manoeuure, though it 
had forced her to slander her own character so 
cruelly and so unjustly ! In fact, manoeuvring was 
her delight. 



One morning I was about to mount my horse to 
ride into London to the banking-house, when, to 
my astonishment, I read in the newspapers that a 
summons had been issued to bring me before the 
Privy-Council. I immediately proceeded to Down- 
ing Street, and asked to see Mr. Dundas. I was 
admitted ; and I told him that I had come to inquire 
the cause of the summons which I had seen an- 
nounced in the newspapers. He said, " Have you a 
carriage here ? " I replied, " A hackney-coach." In- 
to it we got ; and there was I sitting familiarly with 
Dundas, whom I had never before set eyes on. "We 
drove to the Home-Office ; and I learned that 1 had 
been summoned to give evidence in the case of Wil- 
liam Stone, accused of high treason. — Long before 
this, I had met Stone in the Strand, when he told 
me, among other things, that a person had arrived 
here from France to gather the sentiments of the 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 145 

f>eople of England concerning a Frencli invasion ; 
and that lie (Stone) would call upon me and read to 
me a j)aper on that subject. I said, " You will in- 
fect me with the plague ; " and we parted. In the 
course of a few days he did call with the paper. — 
After the Government had laid hold of Stone, he 
mentioned his intercourse with me ; arid hence my 
summons. When his trial took place, I was ex- 
amined by the Attorney-General, and cross-examined 
by Erskine. For some time before the trial I could 
scarcely get a wink of sleep : the thoughts of my 
appearance at it made me miserable. 

[Extract from The Trial of William Stone for 
High Treason, at the har of the Court of King's 
Bench, on Thursday the Twenty-eighth and Friday 
the Twenty-ninth of January, 1Y96. Taken in 
short-hand hy Joseph Gurney, 1796. 

Samuel Rogers, Esq. (sworn.) 

Examined by 3£r. Attorney-General. 

Q. You know Mr. William Stone ? 

A. Yes. 

Q. Do you know Mr. Hurford Stone ? 

A. Have known him many years. 
7 



146 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Q. Do you recollect having any conversation — 
and if you do, be so good as state to my Lord and the 
Jury, what conversation you had with Mr. William 
Stone relative to an invasion of this country ? 

A. He met me, I think it was in the month of 
March, 1Y94, in the street ; he stopped me to men- 
tion the receipt of a letter from his brother at Paris 
on the arrival of a gentleman who wished particu- 
larly to collect the sentiments of the people of this 
country with respect to a French invasion. — Our 
conversation went very little further, for it was in 
the street. 

Q. Do you recollect what you said to him, if 
you said any thing ? 

A. I recollect that I rather declined the conver- 
sation. 

Q. I ask you, not what you declined or did not de- 
cline, but what you said to him, if you said any thing, 

A. I was in a hurry, and I believe all I said was 
to decline the convereation. 

Q. State in what language you did decline that 
conversation. 

A. I said that I had no wish to take any part 
whatever in any political transactions at that time ; 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. 147 

it was a time of general alarm, audi wished to slmn 
even the shadow of an imputation, as I knew that 
when the minds of men were agitated, as I thought 
thej then were, the most innocent intentions were 
liable to misconstruction, 

Q. Did he inform you who the person was ? 

A. ISTo, he did not ; I only learned that it was a 
gentleman arrived from Paris ; I speak from recol- 
lection. 

Q. Did he inform you what gentleman he was ? 

A. I do not recollect that he did. 

Q. Did he ever call upon you after you had de- 
clined this conversation? 

A. He did call upon me a few days after ; and 
he read to me a paper, which I understood to be 
written bj somebody else, but I cannot say who ; 
and which went to show, as far as I can recollect, 
that the English nation, however they might differ 
among themselves, would unite to repel an invasion. 

Q. After you had declined a conversation upon 
this subject, from motives of discretion, Mr. Stone 
called upon you and showed you this paper ? 

A. He told me in the street he should call 
upon me. 



148 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Q. Had you any further conversation with him 
at any time upon this subject? 

A. He mentioned at that time that he thought 
he should do his duty, if, by stating what he be^ 
lieved to be true, he could save the country from an 
invasion. 

Q. Did he ever tell you where this gentleman 
went to afterwards ? 

A. I never had any further conversation with 
him upon the subject. 

Q. He never came to consult you about what this 
gentleman was doing any where but in England ? 

A. No ; I believe I never met him again. 

Samuel Mogers, Esq. 
Cross-examined by Mr. Erskine. 

Q. Mr. Stone, meeting you accidentally in the 
street, communicated this to you ? 

A. In the open street. 

Q. ISTot with any secrecy ? 

A. By no means. 

Q. And you might have told it me, if I had 
happened to have met you five minutes afterwards ? 

A. Very likely. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAIVITJEL EOGEKS. 149 

Q. Have you had any acquaintance with Mr. 
Stone ? 

A. I have met him frequently for many years. 

Q. What is his character with respect to loyalty 
to his king, and regard to his country ? 

A. I had always an opinion that in that respect 
he was a very well-meaning man." pp. lM-6.] 



I cannot relish Shakespeare's Sonnets. The song 
in As you like it^ " Blow, blow, thou winter wind," 
is alone worth them all. 

Do not allow yourself to be imposed upon by the 
authority of great names : there is not a little both 
in Shakespeare and in Milton that is very far from 
good. Tlie famous passage in Samlet, though it has 
passed into a sort of proverbial expression, is down- 
right nonsense, — 

" a custom 

More honour'd in the breach than the observance : " * 

how can a custom be honoured in the breach of it ? 

* Act ii. sc. 4. — " Compare the following line of a play attributed 
to JonsoD, Fletcher, and Middleton : 

* He keeps his promise best that breaks with hell.' 

Tlie Widow, act iii. sc. 2." 
Dyce's Remarks on Mr. Collier's and Mr. Knight's editions of 
Shakespeare, p. 210. — Ed. 



150 KECOLLECTIOJSrS OF THE 

In Milton's description of the lazar-house there 
is a dreadful confusion of metaphor : — 

" Sight so deform what heart of rock could long 
Dry-ey^d behold ? " * 

I once observed this to Coleridge, who told Words- 
worth that he could not sleep all the next night for 
thinking of it. 

Some speeches in Paradise Lost have as much 
dramatic force as any thing in Shakespeare ; for in- 
stance, — 

" Know ye not, then, said Satan fill'd with scorn, 
Know ye not me ? Ye knew me once no mate 
For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar," &c." t 

It is remarkable that no poet before Shakespeare 
ever introduced a person walking in sleep, I believe 
there is no allusion to such a circumstance in any of 
the Greek or Latin poets. — What a play that is! 

* Par. Lost, b. xi. 494. — In a note on this passage, Dunster says 
that the combination of heart of rock and dry-ey'd is from Tibullus, lib. 
i. El. I. 63, &c. ; 

^'■Flebis; non tua sunt dure prrecordia ferro 

Vincta, nee in tenero stat tibi corde silex." — Ed. 
f B. iv. 827.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 151 

was there ever such a ghost ? — " the table's full ! " 
I never missed going to see it, when Kemble and 
Mrs. Siddons played Macbeth and Lady Macbeth : 
their noble acting, and Locke's fine music, made it 
a delightful treat. 



K you wish to have your works coldly reviewed, 
get your intimate friend to write an article on them. 
I know this by experience. — ^Ward (Lord Dudley) 
" cut up " my Colunibus in The Quarterly : but he 
afterwards repented of it, and apologised to me.* 



I have seen Howard the philanthropist more 
than once : he was a remarkably mild-looking man. 

* The No. of the Quarterly (see vol. ix. 107) which contained the 
critique in question had just appeared, when Mr. Rogers, who had not 
yet seen it, called on Lord Grosvenor, and found Gififord sitting with 
him. Between Mr, Rogers and Gifford there was little cordiality; 
hut on that occasion they chatted together in a very friendly manner. 
After Mr. Rogers had left the room, Gifford said to Lord Grosvenor, 
with a smile, "Do you think he has seen the last Quarterly?^ 

Mr. Rogers took his revenge for that critique, by frequently re- 
peating the following epigram, which has been erroneously attributed 



152 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

His book on prisons is excellently written. People 
are not aware that Dr. Price wrote a portion of it. 



Sir Henry Englefield had a fancy (which some 
greater men have had) that there was about his per- 
son a natural odour of roses and violets. Lady 
Grenville, hearing of this, and loving a joke, ex- 
claimed, one day when Sir Henry was present, 

to Byron, but which, as Mr. Rogers told me, he himself wrote, with some 
Utile assistance from Richard Sharp : 

" Ward has no heart, they say ; but I deny it ; — 
He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it." 

One day, while Mr. Rogers was on bad terms with Ward, Lady 

said to him, " Have you seen Ward lately ? " " What Ward ? " 

" Why, our Ward, of course." " Our Ward ! you may keep him all 
to yourself." 

Columbus was first printed in a thin quarto, for private circulation, 
1810. When Ward reviewed it in 1813, as forming a portion of Mr. 
Rogers's collected poems, it had been greatly enlarged. 

Another article in Tlve Quarterly gave considerable annoyance to 
Mr. Rogers, — the critique by George Ellis, on Byron's Corsair and 
Lara (vol. xi. 428), in which Mr. Rogers's Jacqueline (originally ap- 
pended to Lara) is only mentioned as " the highly refined, but some- 
what insipid, pastoral tale of Jacqueline." — When Mr. Rogers was at 
Brighton, in 1851, Lady Byron told him that her husband, on reading 
Ellis's critique, had said, " The man's a fool. Jacqueline is as superior 
to Lara, as Rogers is to me." Who will believe that Byron said this 
sincerely? Yet Jacqueline is undoubtedly a beautiful little poem. 
— Ei). 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 153 

" Bless me, what a smell of violets ! " — " Yes," said 
he with great simplicity ; " it comes from me.'* 



"We have in England the finest series of pic- 
tm*es and the finest of sculj^tures in the world, — 
I mean, the Cartoons of Raphael and the Elgin 
Marbles. 

Om' National Glallery is superior to any private 
collection of pictures in Italy, — superior, for in- 
stance, to the Doria and Borghese collections, which 
contain several very indifferent things. 

Perhaps the choicest private collection in this 
country is that at Panshanger (Earl Cowper's) : it 
is small but admirable ; what Raphaels, what An- 
drea del Sartos, what Claudes ! 



In former days Cuyp's pictures were compara- 
tively little valued : he was the first artist who 
painted light, and therefore he was not understood. 
Sir William Beechy was at a picture-sale with Wil- 
son, when one of Cuyp's pieces was knocked down 
for a trifling sum. " Well," said Wilson, " the day 



154 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

will come when both. Cuyp's works and my own 
will bring the prices which they ought to bring." 



Look at this engraving by Marc Antonio after 
Raphael, — Michael treading upon Satan, and note 
its superiority to Guido's picture on the same sub- 
ject. In the latter, the countenance of Michael ex- 
presses triumph alone ; in the former, it expresses 
triumph mingled with pity for a fallen brother- 
angel. 

This Last Supper by Raphael [Marc Antonio's 
engraving] 4s, I think, in all respects superior to 
that by Lionardo. Tlie apostle on the right hand 
of Christ strikingly displays his indignation against 
the betrayer of his Lord by grasping the table-knife. 

Kever in any picture did I see such a figure as 
this, — I mean, a figure so completely floating on the 
air [the Angel holding the wreath in Marc Antonio's 
engraving, after Raphael, of the martyrdom of St. 
Felicita]. 



Sir Tliomas Lawrence used to say, that among 
painters there were three pre-eminent for invention, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 155 



— Giorgione, Rembrandt, and Eubens ; and perbaps 
he was right. 



Sir Thomas Lawrence has painted several very 
pleasing pictures of childi-en ; but generally his 
men are effeminate, and his women meretricious. — 
Of his early portraits Sir Joshua Reynolds said, 
" This young man has a great deal of talent ; but 
there is an affectation in his style which he will 
never entirely shake off." 



We have now in England a greater number of 
tolerably good painters than ever existed here to- 
gether at any former period : but, alas, we have no 
Hogarth, and no Reynolds ! 

I must not, however, forget that we have Turner, 
— a man of first-rate genius in his line. There is in 
some of his pictures a grandeur which neither 
Claude nor Poussin could give to theirs. 

Turner thinks that Rubens' landscapes are defi- 
cient in nature. I differ from liim. Indeed, there'*' 
is a proof that he is mistaken ; look at that forest- 

* i. e., on the wall of Mr. Rogers's dining-room. — ^Ed. 



156 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

scene bj Rubens ; the foreground of it is truth 
itself. 

The Art Union is a perfect curse : it buys and 
engraves very inferior pictures, and consequently 
encourages mediocrity of talent ; it makes young 
men, who have no genius, abandon the desk and 
counter, and set up for painters. 



The public gave little encouragement to Flax- 
man and Banks, but showered its patronage on two 
much inferior sculptors. Bacon and Chantrey. 

As to Flaxman, the greatest sculptor of his day, 
— the neglect which he experienced is something in- 
conceivable. Canova, who was well acquainted with 
his exquisite illustrations of Dante, &c., could hardly 
believe that a man of such genius was not an object 
of admiration among his countrymen ; and, in allu- 
sion to their insensibility to Flaxman's merits and to 
their patronage of inferior artists, he said to some 
of the English at Rome, " You see with your ears ! " 

Chantrey began his career by being a carver in 
wood. Jhe ornaments on that mahogany sideboard, 
and on that stand [in Mr. Rogers's dining-room], 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 157 

"were carved by him. [Subsequently, when a gen- 
tleman informed Mr. Rogers that the truth of this 
last statement had been questioned, he entered into 
the following particulars. — Chantrey said to me one 
day, " Do you recollect that, about twenty-five years 
ago, a journeyman came to your house, from the 
wood-carver employed by you and Mr. Hope, to talk 
about these ornaments, and that you gave him a 
drawing to execute them by ? " I replied that I re- 
collected it perfectly. " Well," continued Chantrey, 
" 1 was that journeyman."] When he was at Rome 
in the height of his celebrity, he injured himself not 
a little by talking with contempt * of the finest sta- 
tues of antiquity. — Jackson (the painter) told me 
that he and Chantrey went into the studio of Dan- 
necker the sculptor, who happened to be from home. 
There was an unfinished bust in the room ; and 
Chantrey, taking up a chisel, proceeded to work 
upon it. One of the assistants immediately rushed 
forwards, in great alarm, to stop him ; but no sooner 

* Mr. Rogers, I apprehend, was mistaken on this point. From 
Jones's Life of Chantrey, p. 26, it appears that Chantrey did not admire 
those statues so much as they are generally admired, and therefore 
was unwilling to give his opinion on them ; but that he never spoke of 
them " with contempt." — Ed. 



158 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

had Cliantrey given a blow on the chisel, than the 
man exclaimed, with a knowing look, " Ha ! ha ! " — 
as much as to say, " I see that yon perfectly under- 
stand what you are about." — Cliantrey practised 
portrait-painting both at Sheffield and after he came 
to London, It was in allusion to him that Lawrence 
said, "A broken-down painter will make a very 
good scidptor." 



Ottley's knowledge of painting was astonishing. 
Showing him a picture which I had just received 
from Italy, I said, " Whose work do you suppose 
it to be ? " After looking at it attentively, he re- 
plied, " It is the work of Lorenzo di Crodi " (by 
whom I already knew that it was painted). — " How," 
I asked, " could you discover it to be from Lorenzo's 
pencil ? have you ever before now seen any of his 
pieces ? " " Never," he answered ; " but I am fa- 
miliar with the description of his style as given by 
Vasari and others." 



I regret that so little of Curran's brilliant talk 
has been preserved. How much of it Tom Moore 
could record, if he would only take the trouble ! 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 159 

I once dined with Curran in the pnblic room of 
the chief inn at Greenwich, when he talked a great 
deal, and, as nsual, with considerable exaggeration. 
Speaking of something which he would not do on any 
inducement, he exclaimed vehemently, " I had rather 
be hanged upon twenty gibbets." — "Don't you 
think, sir, that one would be enough for you ? " said 
a girl, a stranger, who was sitting at the table next 
to us. I wish you could have seen Curran's face. 
He was absolutely confounded, — struck dumb. 



Yery few persons know that the poem called 
Ulm and Trafalcjar '^ was written by Canning. He 
composed it (as George Ellis told me) in about two 
days, while he walked up and down the room. In- 
deed, very few persons know that such a poem 
exists. • 

After Legge was appointed Bishop of Oxford, he 
had the folly to ask two wits. Canning and Frere, 
to be present at his first sermon. "Well," said he to 
Canning, " how did you like it ? " " Why, I thought 
it rather — short." — ■" Oh, yes, I am aware that it 

* A short poem printed for Kidgoway, 1806, 4to. — Ed. 



160 KECOLLECTTONS OF THE 

was short ; but I was afraid of being tedious.' 
" You were tedious." 

A lady having put to Canning the silly question, 
" "Why have they made the space in the iron gate 
at Spring Gardens* so narrow? " he replied, " Oh, 
ma'am, because such very fat people used to go 
through " (a reply concerning which Tom Moore 
said, that " the person who does not»relish it can 
have no perception of real wit"). 

I once mentioned to Canning the anecdote,f 
that, while Gray was at Peter House, Cambridge, 
some young men of the college having learned that 
he had a fire-escape in his rooms, alarmed him in the 
middle of the night by a cry of "fire," — and that 
presently Gray descended from the window by a 
ladder of ropes, and tumbled into a tub of water, 

* At the end of Spring Garden Passage, which opens into St. 
James's Park. — Ed. 

t Whence this very suspicious version of the anecdote was derived 
I cannot learn. In a MS. note of Cole it is given as follows : " One of 
their tricks was, knowing that Mr. Gray had [having ?] a dread of 
fire, had rope-ladders in his chamber ; they alarmed him in the mid- 
dle of the night with the cry of fire, in hope of seeing him make use of 
them from his window, in the middle story of the new building." 
Mitford's Gray, i. cviii. It was in consequence of these " tricks " that 
Gray removed from Peter House to Pembroke Hall. — Ed, 



TABLE-TALK OF SA^SIUEL KOGEES. 161 

which the rogues had placed there ; — upon which, 
Canning added, that " they had made a mistake 
in calling out ' fire,' when they meant to cry 
' water.' " 

Canning said that a man who could talk of liking 
dry champagne would not scruple to say any thing. 



Tlie Duke of York told me that Dr. Cyril Jack- 
son most conscientiously did his duty as tutor to him 
and his brother, the Prince of Wales. " Jackson," 
said the Duke, " used to have a silver pencil-case in 
his hand while we were at our lessons ; and he has 
frequently given us such knocks with it upon our 
foreheads, that the blood followed them." 

I have often heard the Duke relate how he and 
his brother George, when young men, were robbed 
by footpads on Hay Hill.* They had dined that 
day at Devonshire House, had then gone home to lay 
aside their court-dfesses, and afterwards proceeded 
to a house of a certain description in the neighbour- 
hood of Berkeley Square. They were returning from 
it in a hackney-coach, late at night, when some foot- 

* Hay Hill, Berkeley Street, leading to Dover Street. — Ed. 



162 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

pads stopped them on Hay Hill, and carried off 
their purses, watches, &c. 

In his earlier days the Duke of York was most 
exact in paying all his debts of honour. One night 
at Brookes's, while he was playing cards, he said to 
Lord Thanet, who was about to go home to bed, 
" Lord Thanet, is our betting still to continue ? " 
" Yes, sir, certainly," was the reply : and next morn- 
ing Lord Thanet found 1500?. left for him at Brookes's 
by the Duke. But gradually he became less par- 
ticular in such matters ; and at last he would quiet- 
ly pocket the winnings of the night from Lord 
Robert Spencer, though he owed Lord Robert about 
five thousand pounds. 

I have several times stayed at Oatlands with the 
Duke and Duchess of York^both of them most 
amiable and agreeable persons. We were generally 
a comDany of about fifteen ; and our being invited 
to remain there " another day " sometimes depended 
on the ability of our i-oyal host and hostess to raise 
sufficient money for our entertainment. We used 
to have all sorts of ridiculous " fun " as we roamed 
about the grounds. The Duchess kept (besides a 
number of dogs, for which there was a regular burial- 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 163 

place) a collection of monkeys, eacli of which had 
its own pole with a house at top. One of the visit- 
ors (whose name I forget) would single out a par- 
ticular monkey, and play to it on the fiddle with 
such fury and perseverance, that the poor animal, 
half distracted, would at last take refuge in the arms 
of Lord Alvanley. — Monk Lewis was a great fa- 
vourite at Oatlands. One day after dinner, as the 
Duchess was leaving the room, she whispered some- 
thing into Lewis's ear. He was much affected, his 
eyes filling with tears. We asked what was the 
matter. " Oh," replied Lewis, " the Duchess spoke 
so very kindly to me!" — "My dear fellow," said 
Colonel Armstrong,* " pray don't cry ; I daresay 
she didn't mean it." 

I was in the pit of the Opera with Crabbe the 
poet when the Duchess of York beckoned to me, and 
I went into her box. There was no one with her 
except a lady, whom I did not know ; and supposing 
that she was only one of the Duchess's attendants, 
I talked very unguardedly about the Duke of Kent. 
ISTow, tlie lady was the Duchess of Gloucester, who 

* Query about this name ? Sometimes, while telling the story, 
Mr. Rogers would say, " I think it was Colonel Armstrong." — Ed. 



164 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

took great offence at what I said, and has never for- 
given me for it. The Duchess of York told me 
afterwards that she sat in perfect misery, expectino- 
that, when I had done with the Duke of Kent, I 
should fall upon the Duke of Gloucester. 



In Monk Lewis's writings there is a deal of 
bad taste ; but still he was a man of genius. I'll 
tell you two stories which he was very fond of 
repeating (and which Windham used to like). The 
first is : 

The Skeleton in the Church-im-ch. 

Some travellers were supping at an inn in Ger- 
many, and sent for the landlord to give him a glass 
of wine. In the course of conversation the landlord 
remarked that a certain person whom they happened 
to speak of, -was as obstinate as the Skeleton in the 
Church-porch. "What is that?" they inquired. 
The landlord said that he alluded to a skeleton 
which it was impossible to keep under ground ; that 
he had twice or thrice assisted in lajdng it in tlie 
charnel, but that always, the day after it liad been 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 165 

buried, it was found lying in the clinrcli-porch. The 
travellers were greatly struck by this account ; and 
tliey expressed an eager desire to see the refractory 
skeleton. At last, a young serving- woman coming 
into the room, they asked her if she, for a reward, 
would go to the church-porch and bring the skeleton 
to them. She at fii-st refused to do so ; but eventu- 
ally the travellers offered a sum of money which 
she could not resist. Be it particularly observed 
that the young woman was then hig with child. 
Well, off she set to the church ; and having found 
the skeleton in its usual place, she brought it to the 
inn on her back, and laid it upon the table before 
the travellers. They had no sooner looked at it 
than they wished it gone ; and they prevailed on the 
young woman, for another sum of money, to carry it 
again to the church-porch. When she arrived there, 
she set it down ; and turning away, she was pro- 
ceeding quickly along the path which led from the 
church, and w^hich was seen stretching out before 
her in the clear moonlight, when suddenly she felt 
the skeleton leap upon her back. She tried to shake 
it off ; but in vain. She then fell on her knees, and 
said he]' prayers. Tlie skeleton relaxed its hold ; 



166 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

and she again rushed down the path, when, as be- 
fore, the skeleton leapt upon her back. "I will 
never quit you," it said, " till you descend into the 
charnel, and obtain forgiveness for the skeleton that 
lies in the church-porch." She paused a moment ; 
then summoning up her courage, she replied that she 
would do so. The skeleton dropped off. Down she 
went into the charnel ; and, after groping about for 
some time, she perceived the pale figure of a lady, 
sitting by a lamp and reading. She advanced to- 
wards the figure, and, kneeling, said, "I ask forgive- 
ness for the skeleton that lies in the church-porch," 
The lady read on without looking at her. Again 
she repeated her supplication, but still the lady read 
on, regardless of it. The yoimg woman then as- 
cended from the charnel, and was running down the 
path when the skeleton once more arrested her pro- 
gress. " I will never quit you," it said, "till you 
obtain forgiveness for the skeleton that lies in the 
church-porch : go again into the charnel, and ask 
it." Again the young woman descended, and, ad- 
vancing to the lad}^, sunk upon her knees, and cried, 
" I come a second time to ask forgiveness for the 
skeleton that lies in the church-porch. Oh, grant 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 167 

that forgiveness ! the skeleton implores it ! I implore 
it ! the hdbe that Ihear in my wonib implores it also ! " 
Tlie lady turned her head towards the speaker, gave 
a faint smile, and disappeared. On coming up from 
the charnel, the young woman found the skeleton 
standing erect in the porch. " I am now here," it 
said, " not to trouble you, but to thank you : you 
have at length procured me rest in the grave. I was 
betrothed to the lady whom you saw in the charnel ; 
and I basely deserted her for another. I stood at 
the altar, about to be married to my second love, 
when suddenly the lady rushed into the church, and 
having stabbed herself with a dagger, said to me, as 
she was expiring, " You shall never have rest in the 
grave, — ^no, never, till the hdbe unborn shall aslc for- 
giveness for yoiiP The skeleton rewarded the good 
offices of the young woman by discovering to her 
the place where a heap of treasure was concealed. 
The second story is : 

Lord HowtlbS Rat. 

Tom Sheridan was shooting on the moors in Ire- 
land, and lost his dog. A day or two after, it made 
its appearance, following an Irish labourer. It was 



168 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

restored to Sheridan, who remarked to the labourer 
that " the dog seemed very familiar with him." The 
answer was, "Yes, it follows me, as the rat did Lord 
Howth." An inquiry about this rat drew forth what 
is now to be told. — Lord Howth, having dissipated 
his property, retired in very low spirits to a lonely 
chateau on the sea-coast. One stormy night a vessel 
was seen to go down ; and next morning a raft was 
beheld floating towards the shore. As it approached, 
the bystanders were surprised to find that it was 
guided by a lady, who presently stepped upon the 
beach. She was exquisitely beautiful ; but they 
were unable to discover who or what she was, for 
she spoke in an unknown tongue. Lord Howth was 
struck with great pity for this fair stranger, and 
conducted her to his chateau. There she remained 
a considerable time, when he became violently ena- 
moured of her, and at last asked her to become his 
wife. She (having now learned the English lan- 
guage) thanked him for the honour he had intended 
her ; but declared in the most positive terms that 
she could never be his. She then earnestly advised 
him to marry a certain lady of a neighbouring 
county. He followed her advice ; paid his addresses 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEKS. 169 

to the lady, and was accepted. Before the marriage, 
the beautiful stranger took a ribbon from her hair, 
and binding it round the wrist of Lord Howth, said, 
" Your happiness depends on your never parting 
with this ribbon." He assured her that it should 
remain constantly on his wrist. She then disap- 
peared, and was never seen again. The marriage 
took place. The ribbon was a matter of much 
wonder and curiosity to the bride ; and one night, 
while Lord Howth was asleep, she removed it from 
his wrist, and carried it to the fire, that she might 
read the characters inscribed upon it. Accidentally 
she let the flame reach it, and it was consumed. 
Some time after. Lord Howth was giving a grand 
banquet in his hall, when the company were sud- 
denly disturbed by the barking of dogs. Tliis, the 
servants said, was occasioned by a rat which the 
dogs were pursuing. Presently the rat, followed by 
the dogs, entered the hall. It mounted on the table, 
and running up to Lord Howth, stared at him ear- 
nestly with its bright black eyes. He saved its life ; 
nnd from that moment it never quitted him : wher- 
ever he was, alone or with his friends, there was the 
rat. At last the society of the rat became very dis- 



170 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

agreeable to Lord Howtli ; and his brother urged 
him to leave Ireland for a time, that he might get 
rid of it. He did so, and proceeded to Marseilles, 
accompanied by his brother. They had just arrived 
at that place, and were sitting in the room of an 
hotel, when the door opened, and in came the rat. 
It was dripping wet, and went straight to the fire to 
diy itself. Lord Howth's brother, greatly enraged 
at the intrusion, seized the poker, and dashed out 
its brains. " You have murdered me," cried Lord 
Howth, and instantly expired. 



Howley, the present Archbishop of Canterbury, 
edited and wrote the preface to Russell's Sonnets and 
Poems.^ I hke Russell's sonnet about Philoctetes, 
which you say Wordsworth admires so much.f 

[" Supposed to be written at Lemnos. 

On tills lone isle, whose rugged rocks affright 
The cautious pilot, ten revolving years 
Great Poeas' son, unwonted erst to tears, 

Wept o'er his wound : alike each rolling light 

* First printed at Oxford, 1789, 4to.— Ed. 

t See letter to Rev. A. Dyce in Wordsworth's Memoirs, ii. 280. — 
Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 171 

Of heaven lie watch'd, and blani'd its lingering flight; 

By day the sea-mew, screaming round his cave, 

Drove slumber from his eyes, the chiding wave 
And savage howlings chas'd his di-eams by night. 
Hope still was his : in each low breeze that sigh'd 

Through his rude grot he heard a coming oar, 
In each white cloud a coming sail he spied ; 

For seldom listen'd to the fancied roar 
Of (Eta's torrents, or the hoarser tide 

That parts fam'd Trachis from th' Euboic shore."] 



I like, too, that one which begins, " Could, then, 
the babes." 

[" Could, then, the babes from yon unshelter'd cot 

Implore thy passing charity in vain ? 
Too thoughtless youth ! what though thy happier lot 

Insult their life of poverty and pain ; 
What though their Maker doom'd them thus forlorn 

To brook the mockery of the taunting throng, 
Beneath th' oppressor's iron scourge to mourn, 

To mourn, but not to murmur at his wrong ? 
Yet when their last late evening shall decline. 

Their evening cheerful, though their day distrest, 
A hope perhaps more heavenly bright than thine, 

A grace by thee unsought and unpossest, 



172 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

A faith more fix'd, a rapture more divine, 
Shall gild their passage to eternal rest."] 



Grattan's aunt was intimate with Swift's Stella, 
(Mrs, Jolinson), wlio would sometimes sleep witli her 
in the same bed, and pass the whole night in tears. 
Stella was not handsome. 

At one of Lady Crewe's dinner-parties, Grattan, 
after talking very delightfully for some time, all at 
once seemed disconcerted, and sunk into silence. I 
asked his daughter, who was sitting next to me, the 
reason of this. " Oh," she replied, " he has just 
found out that he has come here in his powdering- 
coat." 

Grattan said that Malone went about, looking, 
through strongly-magnifying spectacles, for pieces 
of straw and bits of broken glass. 

He used to talk with admiration of the French 
translation of Demostlienes by Auger : he thought 
it the best of all translations. 

He declared that the two greatest men of modern 
times were William the Third and "Washington. 

" Three persons," said Grattan, " are considered 



TABLE-TALK OF SAIMIJEL KOGEKS. 173 

as having the best claim to the authorship oijuniuis 
Letters^ — Gibbon, Hamilton, and Burke. Gibbon 
is out of the question. I do not believe that they 
were Hamilton's ; because a man, who was willing 
to be known as the author of a bad piece, would 
hardly have failed to acknowledge that he had 
written an excellent book. I incline to think that 
Burke was Junius. 

" Burke," observed Grattan, ' became at last 
such an enthusiastic admirer of kingly power, that 
he could not have slept comfortably on his pillow, 
if he had not thought that the king had a right to 
carry it off from under his head." 

" Do you ever say your prayers ? " asked Plun- 
kett of Grattan. "No, never."— " What, never? 
neither night nor morning ? " " I^ever : but I have 
aspirations all day and all night long," 

" What you have just mentioned," said one of 
Grattan's friends to him, " is a profound secret : 
where cotild you have heard it % " Grattan replied, 
" Where secrets are kept, — in the street." 

You remember the passage in mj Human Life f — ■ 

" A walk in Spring — Grattan, like those with thee 
By the heath-side (who had not envied me ?), 



174 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

When the sweet limes, so full of bees m June, 
Led us to meet beneath their boughs at noon ; 
And thou didst say which of the gi'eat and wise, 
Could they but hear and at thy bidding rise, 
Thou wouldst call up and question." 

I allude to some lime-trees near Timbridge "Wells. 
Grattan would say to me, " Come, Rogers, let's take 
a walk among the lime-trees, and liear those great 
senators, the bees ; " and, while we were listening 
to their buzzing and humming, he would exclaim, 
'' l^ow, they are holding a committee," &c., &c. He 
would say, too, " Were I a necromancer, I should 
like to call up Scipio Africanus : he was not so skil- 
ful a captain as Hannibal ; but he was a greater and 
more virtuous man. And I should like to talk to 
Julius Caesar on several points of his history, — on 
one particularly (though I would not press the sub- 
ject, if disagreeable to him) ; — I should wish to know 
vhat part he took during Catiline's conspiracy." — 
" Should you like to call up Cleopatra ? " I asked. 
" ISTo," replied Grattan, " not Cleopatra : she would 
tell me nothing but lies ; and her beauty would make 
me sad." * — Grattan was so fond of walking with me, 

* The very reverse of the eflfect which the beauty of the little 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 175 

that Mrs. Grattan once said to him rather angrily, 
" You'll be taken for Mr. Kogers's shadow." 

" How I should like," said Grattan one day to 
me, " to spend my whole life in a small neat cottage ! 
I could be content with very little ; I should need 
only cold meat, and bread, and beer, — and ^plenty 
of claret.^'' 

I once said to Grattan, " If you were now only 
twenty years old, and Cooke were about to set sail 
round the world, should you like to accompany 
him ? " He answered, " I have no wish to see such 
countries as he saw : I should like to see Rome, 
Athens, and some parts of Asia ; but little besides." 

He declared that he had rather be shot than go 
up in a balloon. 

Grattan's uncle, Dean Marley, gave the nicest 
little dinners and kept the best company in Dublin; 
his parties were delightful. At that time he had 
about four hundred a year. Afterwards, when he 
succeeded to an estate and was made a Bishop, he 

cottage-girl produced on Wordsworth — " Her beauty made me glad^ 
We are Seven. Speaking to me of the poem just cited, Wordsworth 
said, " It is founded on fact. I met a little girl near Goderich Cas- 
tle, who, though some of her brothers and sisters were dead, would 
talk of them in the present tense. I wrote that poem backward, — 
that is, I began with the last stanza." — Ed. 



1Y6 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

gave great dinners cbiefiy to people of rank and 
fashion (foolisli men and foolish women) ; and his 
parties lost ail their clia,rm. 

He had a good deal of the humom* of Swift. 
Once, Avhen the footman was out of the way, he 
ordered the coachman to fetch some water from the 
well. To this the coachman objected, that his busi- 
ness was to drive, not to run on errands. " Well, 
then," said Marley, " bring out the coach and four, 
set the pitcher inside, and drive to the well ; " — a 
service which was several times repeated, to the 
great amusement of the village. 



Places are given away by Government as often 
for the sake of silencing animosity as in the hope of 
assistance from the parties benefited. 



Tlie French Revolution was the greatest event 
in Europe since the irruption of the Goths. 



The most beautiful and mao;nificent view on the 



TABLE-TALK OF SAISIUEL ROGEKS. 177 

face of the earth is the prospect of Mont Blanc from 
the Jura Mountains. 



Archibald Hamilton, afterwards Duke of Hamil' 
ton,* (as his daughter. Lady Dunmore, told me) 
advertised for " a Hermit " as an ornament to his 
pleasure-grounds ; and it was stipulated that the said 
Hermit should have his beard shaved but once a 
year, and that only partially. 

A friend, calling on him one forenoon, asked if 
it was true that he kept a young tame tiger. He 
immediately slapped his thighs, and uttered a sort 
of whistle ; and forth crept the long-backed animal 
from under the sofa. The visitor soon retreated. 



Lord Shelburne could say the most provoking 
things, and yet appear quite unconscious of their 
being so. Li one of his speeches, alluding to Lord 
Carlisle, he said, "The noble lord has written a 
comedy." " ISTo, a tragedy." f — " Oh, I beg pardon ; 
/ thought it was a comedy.''^ 



* Ninth Duke of Hamilton. — Ed. f The Father's Revenge. — Ed. 
8* 



178 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Only look at that sunset ! it is enough to make 
one feel devout. — I was once driving through the 
Park on nij way to a dinner-party, when the sun 
was setting so beautifully that I could not resist 
staying to see all that I could see of it ; and so I 
desired the coachman to drive me round and round 
till it was fairly set. Dinner was begun when I 
arrived ; but that did not much matter.* 

Once at Thomas Grenville's f house I was raptu- 
rously admiring a sunset. "Yes," he observed, "it 

is very handsome : " and some time after, when- 

was admiring another sunset, he said, " Why, you 
are as foolish as Rogers." 



When a lady, a friend of mine, was in Italy, she 

* Those who were not acquainted with Mr. Rogers may perhaps 
think that there was some affectation in all this : hut assuredly there 
was none. In the passage with which Italy now concludes, he says, 
describing himself, — 

" Nature denied him much ; 
But gave him at his birth what most he values, 
A passionate love for music, sculpture, painting, 
For poetry, the language of the gods. 
For all things here or grand or beautiful, 
A Setting Sun, a lake among the mountains," &c. — Ed. 
f The Right Honourable T. G.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEKS. 179 

went into a cliurch, and knelt down among the crowd. 
An Italian woman, wlio was praying at some little 
distance, rose up, came softly to my friend, whispered 
in lier ear, " If yon continue to flirt with my hus- 
band, I'll be the death of you ; " and then, as softly, 
returned to her genuflections. Such things cannot 
happen where there are pews. 



I know few lines finer than the concluding stanza 
of Life * by Mrs. Barbauld, who composed it when 
she was very old ; 

" Life ! we've been long together, 
Througli pleasant and throngh cloudy weather : 
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear ; 
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear ; 
Then steal away, give little warning, 
Choose thine own time, 
Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime 
Bid me Good Morning." 

Sitting with Madame D'Ai-blay some weeks be- 

* Wordsworth also thought very highly of these Jnes: see his 
Memoirs, ii. 222. — Ed. 



180 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

fore she died, I said to her, " Do you remember 
those lines of Mrs. Barbauld's Life which I once 
repeated to you ? " " Remember them ! " she re- 
plied ; "I re]3eat them to myself every ni^ht before 
I go to sleep." 

Strangely enough,* in spite of her correct taste, 
Mrs. Barbauld was quite fascinated by Darwin's Bo- 
tanic Garden when it first appeared, and talked of 
it with rapture ; for which I scolded her heartily. 

One day, as she was going to Hampstead in the 
stage-coach, she had a Frenchman for her companion ; 
and entering into conversation with him, she found 
that he was making an excursion to Hampstead for 
the express purj)ose of seeing the house in the Flash 
Walk where Clarissa Harlowe lodged. f What a 
compliment to the genius of Richardson ! 



* It is not so strange, wlien we recollect that The Botanic Garden 
fascinated even Cowper : see his verses to Darwin, written in con- 
junction with Hayley. — AVordsworth once said to me: "Darwin had 
not an atom of feeling: he was a mere eye-voluptuary. He has so 
many similes all beginning with ' So,' that I used to call The Botanic 
Garden so-so poetry.' " — Ed. 

f " The writer of these observations well remembers a French- 
man who paid a visit to Hampstead for the sole purpose of finding 
out the house in the Jiask-waik where Clarissa lodged and was sur- 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJS^ITJEL KOGERS. 181 

Bobus Smitli * (who could repeat bj heart an 
astonishing quantity of Latin jprosi) used to admire 
greatly the " raptor, largitor " f of Tacitus. I am 
inclined to prefer Sallust's expression, " alieni appe- 
tens, sui ]3rofusus." X 

A few days before his death, Bobus said to me, 
" Rogers, however we may doubt on some points, we 
have made up our minds on one, — that Christ was 
sent into the world commissioned by the Almighty 
to instruct mankind." I replied, " Yes ; of that I 
am perfectly convinced." 



When I was a lad, I recollect seeing a whole 

prised at the ignorance or indifference of the inhabitants on that 
subject. The fash-walk was to him. as much classic ground as the 
rocks of Meillerie to the admirers of Eousseau ; and probably, if an 
English trave'ler were to make similar inquiries in Switzerland, he 
would find that the rocks of Meillerie and the chalets of the Valais 
suggested no ideas to the inhabitants but such as were connected with 
their dairies and their farms. A constant residence soon destroys all 
sensibility to objects of local enthusiasm." Mrs. Barbauld's Life of 
Richardson, p. cix. — Ed. 

* i. e. Robert Smith, the elder brother of Sydney, and one of 
the best writers of Latin verse since the days of the ancients. Bo- 
lus was the nickname given to him by his schoolfellows at Eton. 
—Ed. 

t Hist. lib. ii. c. 86.— Ed. 

\ Bdl. Cat., near the beginning. — Ed. 



182 BECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

cartful of young girls, in dresses of various colours, 
on their way to be executed at Tyburn. They had 
all been condemned, on one indictment, for having 
been concerned in (that is, perhaps, for having been 
spectators of) the burning of some honses during 
Lord George Gordon's riots. It was quite horrible. 
— Greville was present at one of the trials consequent 
on those riots, and heard several boys sentenced, 
to their own excessive amazement, to be hanged. 
" J^ever," said Greville with great naivete, " did I 
see boys cry so.''^ 



I once observed to a friend of mine, " Why, you 

and Mr. live like two brothers." He replied, 

" God forbid ! " And it must be confessed that most 
of the " misunderstandings " which we hear of, exist 
between brothers and sisters. Tliese "misunder- 
standings " often arise from the eminence acquired 
by some one member of a family, which the others 
cannot endure. 

In my youth, just as I was beginning to be a 
little known, I felt much gratified by an invitation 
to breakfast with Townley, the statue collectcu'; 
and one night, at home, I mentioned the invitation. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 183 

" You have told us that before," was the remark. 
In days of old they used to put an obnoxious bro- 
ther into a pit, and sell him to the Ishmaelites. — I 
became very intimate with Townley, who liked me 
because I was so fond of art. I have stayed with 
him for days, both in London and in the country ; 
indeed, I was in his house when he died. 



Sir Thomas Lawrence told me, that when he, in 
his boyhood, had received a prize * from the Society 

* Sometimes, in telling this anecdote, Mr. Rogers would speak 
of young Lawrence's prize as " a medal which he put on," &c. But 
from Williams's Life of Lairrence it appears that the prize adjudged 
to him in 1784 by the Society of Arts (for a drawing in crayons 
after the Transfiguration of Raphael) was the silver palette entirely 
gilt and five guineas. " It was the law of the Society, that a work 
of this description, to compete for the main prize [the gold medal] 
must be performed within one year prior to the date at which it is 
sent to the Society. Mr. Lawrence's drawing was marked as per- 
formed in 1782, and it was not sent to the Society till the year 1784 ; 
and this excluded it, according to the conditions of the Society, 
from being taken into consideration for the higher prize. It was 
considered, however, to possess such very extraordinary merit, that 
the Society was not content with putting the gilt rim to the palette, 
but ordered it to be entirely gilt. Pecuniary rewards for works of art 
had long been abandoned ; and this vote of five guineas was a veiy 
striking testimony of the opinions of the Society in favour of the work." 
7ol. i. 90.— Ed. 



184 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

of Arts, lie went witli it into tlie parlour where his 
brothers and sisters were sitting ; but that not one 
of them would take the slightest notice of it ; and 
that he was so mortified by their aft'ected indiffer- 
ence, that he ran uj) stairs to his own room, and 
burst into tears. 

On coming home late one night, I found Sir 
Thomas Lawrence in the street, hovering about my 
door, and waiting for my return. He immediately 
began the tale of his distress, — telling me that he was 
in pressing want of a large sum of money, and that he 
depended on my assistance, being sure that I would 
not like to see the President of the Royal Academy 
a bankrupt. I replied that I would try what I could 
do for him next morning. Accordingly, I went early 
to Lord Dudley. "As you," I said, " can command 
thousands and thousands of pounds, and have a truly 
feeling heart, I want you to help a friend of mine, — 
not, however, by a gift, but either by a loan, or by 
purchasing some valuable articles which he has to 
sell." Dudley, on learning the particulars, accom- 
panied me to Sir Thomas's house, where we looked 
at several pictures which he wished to dispose of in 
order to meet the present difficulty. Most of them 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 185 

were early pictures of the Italian school, and, though 
valuable, not pleasing perhaps to any except artists. 
Dudley bought one of them (a Raphael, in his first 
style, as it was called, and probably was), giving, I 
believe, more than a thousand guineas for it ; and 
he lent Sir Thomas, on a bond, a very considerable 
sum besides. No doubt, if Lawrence had lived, he 
would have repaid Lord Dudley by instalments; 
but he died soon after, and not a penny was ever 
paid back. This to so very wealthy a man as Dud- 
ley was of no consequence ; and I dare say he never 
thought about it at all. — Sir Thomas at the time of 
his death was a good deal in my debt ; nor was I 
ever repaid. — He used to purchase works of art, 
especially drawings of the old masters, at immense 
prices; he was careless in keeping accounts; and 
he was very generous : hence his difiiculties, which 
were every now and then occm*ring. 



When I mentioned to Mrs. Siddons the anecdote 
of " Lawrence and his prize," she said, " Alas ! after 
/ became celebrated, none of my sisters loved me 
as they did before." 



186 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Mrs, Sicldons told me, that one night as she step- 
ped into her carriage to return home from the thea- 
tre, Sheridan suddenly jun>ped in after her. " Mr. 
Sheridan," she said, " I trust that you will behave 
with all propriety : if you do not, I shall immediately 
let down the glass, and desire the servant to show 
you out." Sheridan did behave with all propriety : 
" but," continued Mrs. Siddons, " as soon as we had 
reached my house in Marlborough Street, and the 
footman had opened the carriage-door, — only think ! 
the provoking wretch bolted out in the greatest 
haste, and slunk away, as if anxious to escape un- 
seen ! " 

After she had left the stage, Mrs. Siddons, from 
the want of excitement, was never happy. When I 
was sitting with her of an afternoon, she would say, 
"Oh, dear! this is the time I used to be thinking 
of going to the theatre : first came the pleasure of 
dressing for my part ; and then the pleasure of act- 
ing it; but that is all over now." 

When a grand public dinner was given to John 
Kemble on his quitting the stage, Mrs. Siddons said 
to me, " Well, perhaps in the next world women 
will be more valued than they are in this." She 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 187 

alluded to the comparatively little sensation which 
had been produced by her own retirement from the 
boards : and doubtless she was a far, far greater 
performer than John Kemble. 

Combe* recollected having seen Mrs. Siddons, 
when a very young woman, standing by the side of 
her father's stage, and knocking a pair of snuffers 
against a candlestick, to imitate the sound of a wind- 
mill, during the representation of some Harlequin- 
piece. 

* See p. 112. — Combe had conceived a violent disUke to Mrs. 
Siddons, — why I know not. In a passage of his best work he stu- 
diously avoids the mention of her name ; — 

" The Drama's children strut and play 

In borrow'd parts, their lives away; — 

And then they share the oblivious lot ; 

Smith will, like Gibber, be forgot I 

Gibber with fascinating art 

Gould wake the pulses of the heart ; 

But hers is an expiring name, 

And darling Smith's will be the same." 

The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the 
Picturesque, p. 229, third ed. 1813. 
The " darling Smith" was the late Mrs. Bartley. — Mrs. Siddons used 
to say that the public had a sort of pleasure in mortifying their old 
favourites by setting up new idols ; that she herself had been three 
times threatened with an eclipse, — first by means of Miss Brunton 
(afterwards Lady Craven), next by means of Miss Smith, and lastly 
)y means of Miss O'Neil: "nevertheless," she added, "I am not yet 
' stinguished." — Ed. 



188 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

John Kemble was often very amusing when he 
had had a good deal of wine. He and two friends 
were returning to town in an open carriage from the 
Priory (Lord Abercorn's) where they had dined ; 
and as they were waiting for change at a toll-gate, 
Kemble, to the amazement of the toll-keeper, called 
out in the tone of EoUa, " We seek no cJiange ; and, 
least of all, such change as he would bring us." * 

When Kemble was living at Lausanne, he used 
to feel rather jealous of Mont Blanc ; he disliked 
to hear people always asking " How does Mont 
Blanc look this morning ? " 



Sir George Beaumont,f when a young man, was 
introduced at Eome to an old painter, who in his 
youth had known an old painter, who had seen 
Claude and Gaspar Poussin riding out, in a morn- 
ing, on mules, and furnished with palettes, &c., to 
make sketches in the Campagna. 

* Pizarro, act ii. sc. 2 (where it is " as they would bring us"), 

— Ei). 

•|- During his latter years, I have sometimes heard Mr. Rogers 
state that he was himself iiiti-oduced to the old painter," &c. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 189 

Three Irishmen (I am glad that they were not 
Englishmen) went np Yesuvius. They stopped at 
the hermitage to refresh themselves ; and while they 
were drinking lachrima Christi there, the Emperor 
and Empress of Austria arrived. The three Irish- 
men positively refused to admit them; but after- 
wards, on being told that a lady was outside, they 
offered to give up half the apartment. Upon this, 
the attendants of the Emperor (though against his 
wish) speedily cleared the hermitage of the three 
Irishmen, who, in a great passion, proceeded up to 
the crater. As they were coming down again, they 
met the royal personages, whom they abused most 
heartily, calling the Empress a variety of names 
under her bonnet. No notice of all this was ever 
taken by the Emperor : but, the story having got 
wind immediately, the three Irishmen thought it best 
to decamp next morning from l^aples, their conduct 
having excited the highest indignation among the 
British who were resident there. — I once told this 
anecdote at Lord Lonsdale's table, when Lord Eldon 
and Lord Castlereagh were present ; and the remark 
of Lord Castlereagh was, " I am sorry to say that it 
is too true." 



190 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

The Colosseum in the Regent's Park is a noble 
building, — finer than any thing among the remains 
of ancient architectural art in Italj. It is ridiculous 
to hear Englishmen who have been at Rome talking 
with such rapture of the ancient buildings they have 
seen there : in fact, the old Romans were but indif- 
ferent architects. 



Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, -was not so 
beautiful as she was fascinating ; her beauty was not 
that of features, but of expression. Every body knows 
her poem, Mount St. Gothard j she wrote also what 
is much less known, a novel called The Si/lph* 
Gaming was the rage during her day : she indulged 
in it, and was made miserable by her debts. A faro- 
table was kept by Martindale, at which the Duchess 
and other high fashionables used to play. Sheridan 
said that the Duchess and Martindale had agreed 
that whatever they two won from each other should 
be sometimes double, sometimes treble, the sum which 
it was called ; and Sheridan assured us that he had 
lianded the Duchess into lier carriage when she was 

* 1788. 2 vols.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEKS, 191 

literally sobbing at her losses, — she perhaps having 
lost 1500Z., when it was supposed to be only 500?. 

General Fitzpatrick .said that the Duke's love 
for her grew quite cool a month after their mar- 
riage ; that she had many sighing swains at her 
feet, — among others, the Prince of Wales, who chose 
to believe that she smiled upon Lord Grey ; and 
hence the hatred which the Prince bore to him. 

The Duke, when walking home from Brookes's 
about day-break (for he did not relish the gaieties at 
Devonshire House) used frequently to pass the stall 
of a cobbler who had already commenced his work. 
As they were the only persons stirring in that quar- 
ter, they always saluted each other. " Good night, 
friend," said the Duke. " Good morning^ sir," said 
the cobbler. 

Tlie Duchess was dreadfully hurt at the novel A 
Winter in London : * it contained various anecdotes 
concerning her, which had been picked up from her 
confidential attendants ; and she thought, of course, 
that the little great world in which she lived was inti- 

* In 3 vols., by T. S. Surr. The Duchess figures in it under the 
name of the Duchess of Belgrave. This novel (which was much read 
Kt the time) is inferior to any second-rate worh of fiction of the present 
day. — Ed. 



192 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

mately acquainted with all lier proceedings. " l^ever 
read that book, for it has helped to kill me," were 
her words to a very near relative. 



I introduced Sir "Walter Scott to Madame 
D'Arblay, having taken him Avitli me to her house. 
She had not heard that he was lame ; and when he 
limped towards a chair, she said, " Dear me, Sir 
Walter, I hope you have not met with an acci- 
dent ? " He answered, " An accident, madam, nearly 
as old as my birth." 

At the time when Scott and Byron were the two 
lions of London, Hookham Frere observed, " Great 
poets formerly (Homer and Milton) were blind ; now 
they are lame." 

One forenoon Scott was sitting for his bust to 
Chantrey, who was quite in despair at the dull and 
heavy expression of his countenance. Suddenly, 
Fuller ("Jack Fuller," the then buffoon of the 
House of Commons) was announced by a servant ; 
and, as suddenly, Scott's face was lighted w^ to 
that pitch of animation which the sculptor desired, 
and which he made all haste to avail himself of. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 193 

After dining at my house. Sir Walter (then Mr.) 
Scott accompanied me to a party given by Lady 
Jersey. "We met Sheridan there, who put the ques- 
tion to Scott in express terms, " Pray, Mr. Scott, 
did you, or did you not, write Wa/verley f " Scott 
replied, " On my honour^ I did not." JSTow, though 
Scott may perhaps be justified for returning an 
answer in the negative, I cannot*think that he is 
to be excused for strengthening it with " on my 
honour." 

There is a very pleasing spirit of kindness in 
Scott's Life of Swift and Lives of the Novelists ; he 
endeavours to place every body's actions in the most 
favourable light. 

As a story ^ his Lady of the Lake is delightful.* 
— On the whole, his poetry is too carelessly written 
to suit my taste ; but parts of it are very happy ; 
these lines of Marmion, for instance ; 

" To seize the moment Marmion tried, 
And whisper'd to the king aside : 
' Oh, let such tears imwonted plead 



* I have heard Wordsworth say that it was one of the most 
charming stories ever invented by a poet. — Ed. 
9 



194 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

For respite short from dubious deed ! 
A child wUl weep a bramble's smart, 
A maid to see her sparrow part, 
A stripling for a woman's heart : 
But woe awaits a country when 
She sees the tears of beai'ded men. 
Then, oh, what omen, dark and high, 

"WTien Douglas wets his manly eye ! ' " * 

« 

and the still better passage in tlie same poem 

" O woman ! in our hours of ease. 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please. 
And variable as the shade 
By the light quiverrag aspen made ; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A ministering angel thou ! " f 



Why there should be evil in the world is indeed 
a mystery. Milton attempts to answer the question ; 
but he has not done it satisfactorily. The three 
acutest men with whom I was ever acquainted, Sir 
James Mackintosh, Malthus, and Bobus Smith,:}: were 

* Canto V. xvi. — Ed. t Canto vi. xxx. — Ed. 

t See note, p. 181. — Ed. 



TABLE-TAIvK OF SAiTUEL ROGERS . 195 

all agreed that the attributes of the Deity must be 
in some respects limited, else there -svould be no sin 
and misery.* 



Wlien I lived in the Temple, Mackintosh and 
Richard Sharp used to come to my chambers, and 
stay there for hours, talking metaphysics. One day 
they were so intent on their " first cause," " spirit," 
and " matter," that they were unconscious of my 
having left them, paid a visit, and returned! I was 
a little angry at this, and, to show my indifference 
about them, I sat down and wrote letters, without 
taking any notice of them. 

Mackintosh told me that he had received in his 
youth comparatively little instruction, — whatever 
learning he possessed he owed to himself. He had a 
prodigious memory, and could repeat by heart more 
of Cicero than you would easily believe. His know- 
ledge of Greek was slender. I never met a man 
with a fuller mind than Mackintosh, — such readiness 
on all subjects, such a talker ! 

* I cannot help remarking — that men whom the world regards as 
tar greater "lights" than the three above mentioned, have thought 
very differently on this subject. — Ed. 



196 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

I once travelled with liim on the Continent ; yet, 
in spite of his delightful conversation, some how or 
other we did not hit it oiF well. At Lausanne my 
sister and I went to see Gibbon's house ; and, bor- 
rowing the last volume of the Decline and Fall, we 
read the concluding passages of it on the very spot 
where they were written. But such an amusement 
was not to Mackintosh's taste : he meanwhile was 
trotting about, and making inquiries concerning the 
salaries of professors, &c. &c. When wx were leav- 
ing Geneva, I could not find my sac-de-nuit, and was 
forced to buy a new one. On stepping into the car- 
riage, I saw there, to my surprise, the lost article, 
which Mackintosh had very coolly taken and had 
stuffed with recently-purchased books. 

Mackintosh often said that Herschel's Discourse 
on the Study of Natural Philosophy was undoubt- 
edly the finest thing of its kind since the publica- 
tion of Bacon's Novum Organon. 



Lord EUenborough had infinite wit. "When the 
income-tax was imposed, he said that Lord Kenyon 
(who was not very nice in his habits) intended, in con- 
sequence of it, to lay down—his pocket-handkerchief. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGERS. 197 

A lawyer one day pleading before liini, and using 
several times the expression " my unfortunate client," 
Lord EUenborougli suddenly interrupted bim, — 
"Tliere, sir, the court is with you." 

Lord Ellenborougb was once about to go on tbe 
circuit, when Lady E. said that she should like to 
accompany him. He replied that he had no objec- 
tions, provided she did not encumber the carriage 
with bandboxes, which were his utter abhorrence. 
Tliey set off. During the first day's journey, Lord 
Ellenborougb, happening to stretch his legs, struck 
his feet against something below the seat. He dis- 
covered that it was a bandbox. His indignation is 
not to be described. Up went the window, and out 
went the bandbox. The coachman stopjDed; and 
the foOi^men, thinking that the bandbox had tumbled 
out of the window by some extraordinary chance, 
were going to pick it up, when Lord Ellenborougb 
furiously called out, " Drive on ! " The bandbox 
accordingly was left by a ditch-side. Having 
reached the county-town where he was to officiate 
as judge, Lord Ellenborougb proceeded to array 
himself for his appearance in the court-house 
" ISTow," said he, " where's my wig, — where is my 



198 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 



wig ? " " My Lord," replied his attendant, "it was 
thrown out of the carriage-window." 



The English highwaymen of former days (in- 
deed, the race is now extinct) were remarkably well- 
bred personages. Thomas Grenville,* while travel- 
ling with Lord Derby ; and Lord Tankerville, while 
travelling with his father ; were attacked by high- 
waymen : on both occasions, six or seven shots were 
exchanged between them and the highwaymen ; and 
when the parties assailed had expended all their 
ammunition, the highwaymen came up to them, and 
took their purses in the politest manner possible. 



Foreigners have more romance in their natures 
than we English. Fuseli, during his later years, 
used to be a very frequent visitor of Lady Guilford, 
at Putney Hill. Li the grounds belonging to her 
villa there was a statue of Flora holding a wreath 
of flowers. Fuseli would frequently place in the 
wreath a slip of j^aper, containing some pretty sen- 

* The Right Honourable T. G.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. 199 

timent, or some expressions of kindness, intended 
for Ladj Guilford's daughters ; who would take it 
away, and replace it by another of the same kind. 
When one of these ladies told me this, the tears 
were in her eyes. 



The three great cm'ses of Ireland are, Absentee- 
ism, Middle-men, and the Protestant Establishment. 



A man who attempts to read all the new publi- 
cations must often do as a flea does — ski]). 



Such is the eagerness of the human mind for ex- 
citement, — for anevent^ — that people generally have 
a sort of satisfaction in reading the deaths of their 
friends in the newspapers. I don't mean that a man 
would not be shocked to read there the death of his 
child, or of his dearest friend ; but that he feels a 
kind of pleasure in reading that of an acquaintance, 
because it gives him something to talk about with 
every body on whom he may have to call dm'ing 
the day. 



200 KECOLLECTIONS CF THE 

You remember the passage in ICing Lear^ — a 
passage wliicli Mrs, Siddons said that slie never 
could read without shedding tears, — 

" Do not laugh at me ; 
For as I am a man, I think this lady 
To he my child Cordelia." * 

Something of the same kind happened in my own 
family. A gentleman, a near relation of mine, was 
on his death-bed, and his intellect much impaired, 
when his daughter, whom he had not seen for a con- 
siderable time, entered the room. He looked at her 
with the greatest earnestness, and then exclaimed, 
" I think I should know this lady : " but Ms recog-. 
nition went no further. 



One morning I had a visit from Lancaster, whom 
I had never before seen. The moment he entered 
the room, he began to inform me of his distresses, 
and burst into tears. He was unable, he said, to 
carry on his school for want of money, — ^lie owed 
some hundred pounds to his landlord, — he had been 
to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who would do 



* Act iv, 8c. 7. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 201 

nothing for him, &c. &c. ; and he requested me to 
go and see his school. I went; and was so de- 
lighted with what I saw (the system of monitors, 
&c.), that I immediately lent him the sum which he 
stood in need of; and he put his title-deeds into my 
hands. I never was repaid one farthing of that 
money ; indeed, on finding that Lancaster owed 
much larger sums both to William Allen and to 
Joseph Fox, I forbore urging my claims, and re- 
turned the title-deeds.* 



George Selwyn, as everybody knows, delighted 
in seeing executions ; he never missed being in at a 
death at Tyburn. When Lord Holland (the father 
of Charles Fox) was confined to bed by a dangerous 

* I was well acquainted with Lancaster. He once came to 
me in great agitation, and complained bitterly that ' they wanted to 
put him under the control of a committee, who were to allow him 
365^. a-year,' &c. &c. I knew how thoughtless and improvident 
he had been, driving chout the coimtiy with four horses, and doing 
many other foolish things ; and I could not take that view of his 
case which he wished me to take. This offended him : he burst into 
tears, and left the room, declaring that he would never again come 
near me. He went to America, and died there in obscurity, — a man 
who, if he had only possessed prudence, might have had statues 
erected to him." Mr. Maltbt (see notice prefixed to Porsonia/ia in 
this volume). — Ed. 
9* 



202 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

illness, lie was informed by liis servant that Mi\ 
Selwyn had recently called to inquire for him. " On 
his next visit," said Lord Holland, " be sure you let 
him in, whether I am alive or a corj^se ; for, if I am 
alive, / shall have great pleasure in seeing him ; 
and if I am a corpse. Tie will have great ^pleasure in 
seeing me." — ^The late Lord Holland told me this. 



Payne Knight was seized with an utter loathing 
of life, and destroyed himself. He had complaints 
which were very painful, and his nerves were com- 
pletely shattered.* Shortly before his death, he 
would come to me of an evening, and tell me how 
sick he was of existence. He had recourse to the 
strongest prussic acid ; and, I understand, he was 
dead hefore it touched his lijps. 



Two of the most enchanting lyrics in our lan- 
guage are Collins's Ode to Evening^ and Coleridge's 
Love. The former could not possibly be improved 
by the addition of rhyme. The latter is so exqui- 

* Compare this account with an incidental mention of Payne 
Knight in Ugo Foscolo's Discorso sid Testo, ^c. di Dante, p. 26. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 203 

sitelj musical, that I had often repeated it to my- 
self before I discovered that the first and third lines 
of each stanza do not rhyme. 

Coleridge was a marvellous talker. One morn- 
ing, when Hookham Frere also breafasted with me, 
Coleridge talked for three hours without intermis- 
sion about poetry, and so admirably, that I wish 
every word he uttered had been written down. 

But sometimes his harangues were quite unin- 
telligible, not only to myself but to others. Words- 
worth and I called upon him one forenoon, when he 
was in a lodging off Pall Mall. He talked uninter 
ruptedly for about two hours, during which "Words- 
worth listened to him with profound attention, every 
now and then nodding his head as if in assent. On 
quitting the lodging, I said to Wordsworth, " Well, 
for my own part, I could not make head or tail of 
Coleridge's oration : pray did you understand it ? " 
" l^Tot one syllable of it," was Wordsworth's reply.* 

Speaking of composition, Coleridge said most 

* Wordsworth once observed to me : " What is somewhere stated 
m print — that I said, ' Coleridge was the only person whose intellect 
ever astonished me,' is quite true. His conversation was even finer in 
his youth than in his later days ; for, as he advanced in life, he be- 
came a Uttle dreamy and hyper-metaphysical." — Ed. 



204 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

beautifully, " What comes from the heart goes to 
the heart." 

Coleridge spoke and wrote* very disparagingly 
of Mackintosh : but Mackintosh, who had not a par- 
ticle of envy or jealousy in his nature, did full justice, 
on all occasions, to the great powers of Coleridge. 

Southey used to say that " the moment any 
thing assumed the shape of a duty, Coleridge felt 
himself incapable of discharging it." 



In all his domestic relations Southey was the 
most amiable of men ; but he had no general philan- 
thropy ; he was what you call a cold ■man. He was 
never happy except when reading a book or making 
one. Coleridge once said to me, " I can't think of 
Southey, without seeing him either mending or using 
a pen." I spent some time with him at Lord Lons- 
dale's, in company w^ith "Wordsworth and others ; 
and while the rest of the party were walking about, 
talking, and amusing themselves, Southey preferred 
sitting solus in the library. " How cold he is ! " was 

* See, in Coleridge's Poet. Worries, ii. 87 (ed. Pickering), Tha Tvoo 
Round Spaces on the Tombstone. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 205 

the exclamation of Wordsworth, — ^himself so joyous 
and communicative. 

Southey told me that he had read Spenser through 
about thirty times, and that he could not read Pope 
through once. He thought meanly of Virgil ; so did 
Coleridge ; and so, at one time, did Wordsworth. 
When I lately mentioned to Wordsworth an un- 
favourable opinion which he had formerly expressed 
to me about a passage of Yirgil, " Oh," he said, " we 
used to talk a great deal of nonsense in those days." 



Early in the present century, I set out on a tour 
in Scotland, accompanied by my sister ; but an acci- 
dent which happened to her, prevented us from going 
as far as we had intended. During our excursion 
we fell in with Wordsworth, Miss Wordsworth, and 
Coleridge, who were, at the same time, making a tour 
in a vehicle that looked very like a cart. Words- 
worth and Coleridge were entirely occupied in talk- 
ing about poetry ; and the whole care of looking out 
for cottages where they might get refreshment and 
pass the night, as well as of seeing their poor horse 
fed and littered, devolved upon Miss Wordsworth. 
She was a most delightful person, — so full of ta^ent^ 



206 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

SO simple-minded, and so modest ! If I am not miti- 
taken, Coleridge proved so impracticable a travelling- 
companion, that Wordsworth and his sister were at 
last obliged to separate from him.* During that 
tour they met with Scott, who repeated to them a 
portion of his then unpublished Z^y / which Words- 
worth, as might be expected, did not greatly admire.f 

I do indeed regret that Wordsworth has printed 
only fragments of his sister's Journal : X it is most 
excellent, and ought to have been published entire. 

I was walking with Lord Lonsdale on the terrace 
at Lowther Castle, when he said, " I wish I could do 

* " Coleridge," writes Wordsworth, " was at that time in bad 
spirits, and somewhat too much in love with his own dejection ; and 
he departed from us, as is recorded in my sister's journal, soon after 
we left Loch Lomond." Memoirs of WordsworiJi, i. 207. This tour 
took place in 1803. — Ed. 

f in my memoranda of Wordsworth's conversation I find this : 
" From Sir Walter Scott's earliest poems, The Eve of St. John, &c. I 
did not suppose that he possessed the power which he afterwards dis- 
played, especially in his novels. Coleridge's Christahel no doubt gave 
him the idea of writing long ballad-poems : Dr. Stoddart had a very 
wicked memory, and repeated various passages of it (then unpublished) 
to Scott. Part of the Lay of the Last Minstrel was recited to me by 
Scott while it was yet in manuscript ; and I did not expect that it 
would make much sensation : but I was mistaken ; for it went up like 
a balloon. — Ed. 

X A large portion of it has since been printed in the Mewoi/rs of 
her brother. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 207 

sometliing for poor Campbell." My rejoinder was, 
"I wisli you would do something for poor Words- 
worth, who is in such straitened circumstances, that 
he and his family deny themselves animal food se- 
veral times a week." Lord Lonsdale was the more 
inclined to assist "VYordsworth, because the Words- 
worth family had been hardly used by the preceding 
Lord Lonsdale ; and he eventually proved one of 
his kindest friends. 

What a noble-minded person Lord Lonsdale 
was ! I have received from him, in this room, 
hundreds of pounds for the relief of literary men. 

I never attempted to write a sonnet, because I do 
not see why a man, if he has any thing worth saying, 
should be tied down to fourteen lines. Wordsworth 
perhaps appears to most advantage in a sonnet, be- 
cause its strict limits prevent him from running into 
that wordiness to which he is somewhat prone. Don't 
imagine from what I have just said, that I mean to 
disparage Wordsworth : he deserves all his fame. 

There are passages in Wordsworth where I can 
trace his obligations to Usher's Clio!^ 



* Clio, or a Discourse on Taste, — a little volume of no ordiuary 
-nerit. — Ed. 



208 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Hoppner was a painter of decided genius. Some 
of his j)ortraits are equal to any modern j: ortraits ; 
and his Yenus is certainly fine. 

He had an awful temper, — the most spiteful 
person I ever knew ! He and I were members of a 
club called the Council of Trent (so named from its 
consisting of thirty) ; and because, on one occasion, 
I was interesting myself about the admission of an 
artist whom Hoppner disliked, Hoppner wrote me 
a letter full of the bitterest reproach. Yet he had 
his good qualities. He had been a singing-boy at 
Windsor,* and consequently was allowed " the run 
of the royal kitchen ; " but some time after his mar- 
riage (and, it was supposed, through the ill offices of 
"West) that favour was withdrawn ; and in order to 
conceal the matter from his wife, who, he knew, 
would be greatly vexed at it, Hoppner occasionally, 
after secretly pocketing a roll to dine upon, would 
go out for the day, and on his return pretend that 
he had been dining at Windsor. 

He and Gifford were the dearest friends in the 

* In consequence of the sweetness of his voice, he was made a 
chorister in the Royal Chapel. His mother was one of the German 
attendants at the Palace. See A. Cunningham's Lives of British 
Painters, v. 242. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES, 209 

world ; and yet tbey were continually falling out 
and abusing eacli other. One morning, Hoj)pner, 
having had some little domestic quarrel with Mrs. 
Hoppner, exclaimed very vehemently, " Is not a 
man to he pitied "who has such a wife and such a 
friend " (meaning Gifford) ? 

His Avife and daughter were always grumbling, 
because, when Tie was asked to the Duchess of 

's or to Lord 's, they were not invited also ; 

and he once said to them, " I might as well attempt 
to take the Yoi^ waggon with me as you." Indeed, 
society is so constituted in England, that it is useless 
for celebrated artists to think of bringing their fami- 
lies into the highest circles, where themselves are ad- 
mitted only on account of their genius. Their wives 
and daughters must be content to remain at home. 



Gifford was extremely indignant at an article on 
his translation of Juvenal which apj^eared in The 
Critical Review / and he put forth a very angry 
answer to it, — a large quarto pamphlet. I lent my 
copy to Byron, and he never returned it. One pas- 
sage in that pamphlet is curious, because it describes, 



210 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

what Gifford was himself eventually to become, — a 
reviewer ; who is compared to a huge toad sitting 
under a stone : and besides, the passage is very 
pictm'esque. [" During my apprenticeship, I en- 
joyed perhaps as many places as Scrub, though 1 
suspect they were not altogether so dignified : the 
chief of them was that of a planter of cabbages in a 
bit of ground which my master held near the town. 
It was the decided opinion of Panurge that the life 
of a cabbage-]3lanter was the safest and pleasantest 
in the world. I found it safe enough, I confess, but 
not altogether pleasant; and therefore took every 
opportunity of attending to what I liked better, 
which happened to be, watching the actions of in- 
sects and reptiles, and, among the rest, of a huge 
toad. I never loved toads, but I never molested 
them ; for my mother had early bid me remember, 
that every living thing had the same Maker as my- 
self ; and the words always rang in my ears. Tliis 
toad, then, who had taken wp his residence under a 
hollow stone in a hedge of blind nettles, I used to 
watch for hours together. It was a lazy, lumpish 
animal, that squatted on its belly, and perked up its 
hideous head with two glazed eyes, precisely like a 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 211 

Critical Keviewer. In this ]30sture, perfectly satis- 
fied with itself, it would remain as if it were a part 
of the stone wliich sheltered it, till the cheerful buz- 
zing of some winged insect provoked it to give signs 
of life. The dead glare of its eyes then brightened 
into a vivid lustre, and it awkwardly shuffled to the 
entrance of its cell, and opened its detestable mouth 
to snap the passing fly or honey-bee. Since I have 
marked the manners of the Critical Reviewers, these 
passages of my youth have often occurred to me." 
A7i Examination of the Strictures of the Critical 
Reviewers on the Translation of Juvenal hy W. Gif- 
ford, Esq., p. 101, third edit. 1801.] 

When the Quarterly JRevieio was first projected, 
Gifibrd sent Hopj^ner to my house with a message 
requesting me to become a contributor to it ; which 
I declined. 



Tliat odd being, D^, Mousey (Physician to the 
Royal Hospital, Chelsea), used to hide his bank- 
notes in various holes and corners of his house. One 
evening, before going out, he carefully deposited a 
bundle of them among the coals in the parlour-grate 
where the fire was ready for lighting. Presently, 



212 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

his housekeeper came into the parlour, with some 
of her female friends, to have a comfortable cup of 
tea ; and she was in the act of lighting the fire when 
the doctor luckily returned, and rescued his notes. 
A friend of mine, who had been intimate with Mou- 
sey, assured me that this was fact. 

Bishop Horsley one day met Mousey in the 
Park. " These are dreadful times ! " said Horsley : 
" not only do deists abound, but, — would you think 
it, doctor ? — some people deny that there is a God ! " 
'■' I can tell you," replied Mousey, " what is equally 
strange, — some people believe that there are three." * 
Horsley immediately walked away. 



An Englishman and a Frenchman having quar- 
relled, they were to fight a duel. Being both great 
cowards, they agreed (for their mutual safety, of 
course) that the duel should take place in a room 
perfectly dark. The Englishman had to fire first. 
He groped his way to the hearth, fired up the cliim- 
ney, and brought down — the Frenchman, who had 
taken refuge there. 

* To say nothing else of this speech — it was a very rude one, as 
addressed to a bishop. But Monsey was a coarse humorist, who would 
liardly be tolerated in the present day. — Ed. 



TABLE-TAX,K OF SAlSroEL KOGERS. 213 

A certain man of pleasure about London received 
a challenge from a young gentleman of his acquaint- 
ance ; and they met at the appointed place. Just 
before the signal for firing was given, the man of 
pleasure rushed up to his antagonist, embraced him, 
and vehemently protested that "he could not lift his 
arm against his own flesh and Mood!'''' The young 
gentleman, though he had never heard any imputa- 
tion cast upon his mother's character, was so much 
staggered, that (as the ingenious man of pleasure had 
foreseen) no duel took place. 

Humphrey Howarth, the surgeon, was called out, 
and made his appearance in the field stark naked, to 
the astonishment of the challenger, who asked him 
what he meant. "I know," said H., "that if any 
part of the clothing is carried into the body by a 
gunshot wound, festering ensues; and therefore I 
have met you thus." His antagonist declared, that 
fighting with a man in jmris naturalihus would be 
quite ridiculous ; and accordingly they parted with- 
out further discussion. 

Lord Alvanley on returning home, after his duel 
with young O'Connel, gave a guinea to the hackney- 
coachman who had driven him out and brought him 



214 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

back. The man, surprised at the largeness of the 

sum, said, "My lord, I only took you to ." 

Alvanley interrupted him, " My friend, the guinea 
is for hringing me hack, not for taking me out." 



I was on a visit to Lord Bath at Longleat, when 
I received a letter from Beckford inviting me to 
Fonthill. I went there, and stayed three days. On 
arriving at the gate, I was informed that neither 
my servant nor my horses could be admitted, but 
that Mr. Beckford's attendants and horses should be 
at my service. The other visitors at that time were 
Smith, who published Vieios m Italy, ^ and a French 
ecclesiastic, a very elegant and accomplished man. 
During the day we used to drive about the beautiful 
grounds in pony-chaises. In the evening Beckford 
would amuse us by reading one of his unpublished 
works ; or he would extemporise on the pianoforte, 
produchig the most novel and charming melodiea 
(which, by the by, his daughter, the Duchess of 
Hamilton, can do also). 

* Select Views in Italy, with Descriptions, Fr. and English, by John 
Smith, 1792-6, 2 vols. 4to.— Ed, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 215 

I was struck rather by the refinement than by 
the magnificence of the hospitality at Fonthill. I 
slept in a bedroom which opened into a gallery 
where lights were kept burning the whole night. 
In that gallery was a picture of St. Antonio, to which 
it was said that Beckford would sometimes steal and 
pay his devotions. 

Beckford read to me the two unprinted episodes 
to Yatlieh; and they are extremely fine, but very 
objectionable on account of their subjects. Indeed, 
they show that the mind of the author was to a 
certain degree diseased. The one is the story of a 
prince and j)rincess, a brother and sister, * * 
* * The otherjs the tale of a prince who is 
violently enamoured of a lady ; and who, after pur- 
suing her through various countries, at last overtakes 
her only to find her a corpse. * * * * 
In one of these tales there is an exquisite description 
of a voyage down the Mle. 

Beckford is the author of two burlesque novels, 
— Azemia^ and The Elegant Enthusiast. I have a 
copy of the former, which he ]3resented to me. 

He read to me another tale which he had written 

* Azemia : a de3criptwe and sentimental Novel, interspersed with 
pieces of Poetrij. By .TacqneHa Agneta Mariana JmJcs, of Bellegrore 



216 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

— a satirical one. It was in French, and about a man 
who was ridiculously fond of dogs, &c. &c. I have 
been told that a jaart of his own life was shadowed 
out in it. This tale he never printed. In fact, he had 
no wish to obtain literary rej)utation : he despised it. 
I have seen Beckford shed tears while talking of 
his deceased wife. His eldest daughter (Mrs. Orde *), 

Prion/ in Wales. Dedicated to the Bight Honouralle Lady Harriet 
Marlow. To which are added, Criticisms anticipated, 1797, 2 vols. 
— Modern Novel Writing, or the Elegant Enthudast; and Interesting 
Emotions of Arabella Bloomville. A Rhapsodical Romance ; inter- 
spersed with Poetry. By the Right Hon. Lady Harriet Marlow, 1796, 
2 vols. "Talked of Beckford's two moch novels, ' Agemia' \_Azemia'\ 
and the ' Elegant Enthusiast,' which he wrote to ridicule the novels 
written by his sister, Mrs. Harvey (I think), who read these parodies 
on herself quite innocently, and only now and then suspecting that 
they were meant to laugh at her, saying, Why, I vow and protest, 
here is my grotto, &c. &c. In the ' Elegant Enthusiast ' the heroine 
writes a song which she sings at a masquerade, and which produces 
such an effect, that my Lord Mahogany, in the character of a Mile- 
stone, bursts into tears. It is in '■Agemia' \_Azemia'\ that all the heroes 
and heroines are Jcilled at the conclitsion hy a supper of stewed lampreys.^' 
Moore's Memoirs, &c., ii. 197. As to the catastrophe of Azemia, 
Moore was misinformed ; that tale has nothing about a fatal supper 
of stewed lampreys : there is, however, in the second volume of The 
Elegant Enthusiast a similar incident, " owing to a copper stew-pan in 
which some celery had been cooked." Both these novels are much in 
the style of Beckford's Memoirs of Extraordinary Painters, but greatly 
inferior to that strange production, which itself is unworthy of the 
author of Vaiheh. — Ed. 

* Wife of Colonel, afterwards General Orde. — ^Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 217 

who has been long dead, was both in appearance and 
disposition a perfect angel. Her delight was, not to 
be admired herself, but to witness the admiration 
which her sister (the Duchess of Hamilton) never 
failed to excite. 

Beckford was eventually reduced to such straits, 
that he was obliged to part with his pictiires, one by 
one. The last picture which he sold to the I^ational 
Gallery was Bellini's portrait of the Doge of Venice. 
It was hung up the very day on which Beckford 
died : the Duke of Hamilton wrote a letter to me, 
requesting that it might be returned to the family ; 
but his application came too late. 



When Porson dined with me, I used to keep him 
within bounds ; but I frequently met him at various 
houses where he got completely drunk. He would 
not scruple to return to the dining-room, after the 
company had left it, pour into a tumbler the drops 
remaining in the wine-glasses, and drink off the om- 
nium gatherum." 

* Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to the Porsoniana in this voL), 
who was present when Mr. Rogers told the above anecdote, said, " I 
have seen Porson do so." — Ed. 
10 



218 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

I once took liim to an evening party at "William 
Spencer's, where he was introduced to several women 
of fashion, Lady Crewe, &c., who were very anxious 
to see the great Grecian. How do you suppose he 
entertained tliem ? Chiefly by reciting an immense 
quantity of old forgotten Yauxhall songs. He was 
far from sober, and at last talked so oddly, that they 
all retired from him, except Lady Crewe, who boldly 
kept her ground. I recollect her saying to him, 
"Mr. Porson, that joke you have borrowed from 
Joe Miller," and his rather angry reply, " Madam, 
it is not in Joe Miller ; you will not find it either in 
the preface or in the body of that work, no, nor in 
the index." I brought him home as far as Picca- 
dilly, where, I am sorry to add, I left him sick in 
the middle of the street. 

When any one told Porson that he intended to 
publish a book, Porson would say, " Remember that 
two parties must agree on that point, — you and the 
reader." 

I asked him what time it would take him to 
translate The Iliad literally and correctly into Eng- 
lish prose. He answered, " At least ten years." 

He used to say that something may be pleaded 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 219 

as a sort of excuse for the wickedness of tlie worst 
characters in Shakespeare. For instance, lago is 
tortured by suspicions that Othello has been too in- 
timate with his wife ; Richard the Third, the mur- 
derer of children, has been bitterly taunted by one 
of the young princes, &c. 

" If I had a carriage," said Porson, " and if I 
saw a well-dressed person on the road, I would al- 
ways invite him in, and learn of him what I could." 
Such was his love of knowledge ! 

He was fond of repeating these lines, and wrote 
them out for me ; 

" What * fools are mankind, 
And how strangely inclin'd, 
To come from all places 
With horses and chaises, 
By day and by dark, 
To the falls of Lanark ! 
For, good people, after all, 
What is a water-fall ? 
It comes roaring and grumbling. 
And leaping and tumbling, 
And hopping and skipping, 
And foaming and dripping ; 

* From Garnett's Tmir in Scotland, vol. ii. 227. They were found 
in an album kept at the inn at Lanark. — Ei). 



220 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

And struggling and toiling, 
And bubbling and boiling ; 
And beating and jumping, • 
And bellowing and thumping. 
I have much more to say upon 
Both Linn and Bon niton ; 
But the trunks are tied on, 
And I must be gone." 

These lines evidently suggested to Southey liis 
playful verses on The Cataract of Lodore. 



Oh, the exquisite English in many ]3arts of our 
version of the Scriptures ! I sometimes think that 
the translators, as well as the original writers, must 
have been inspired. 



Lord Seaforth, who was born deaf and dumb, 
was to dine one day with Lord Melville. Just be- 
fore the time of the company's arrival, Lady Melville 
sent into the drawing-room a lady of her acquaint- 
ance, who could talk with her fingers to dumb peo- 
ple, that she might receive Lord Seaforth. Pre- 
sently Lord Guilford entered the room ; and the 
lady, taking him for Lord Seaforth, began to ply her 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 221 

fingers very nimbly : Lord Guilford did tlie same ; 
and tliey liad been carrying on a conversation in this 
manner for about ten minutes, when Lady Melville 
joined them. Her female friend immediately said, 
"Well, I have been talking away to this dumb man." 
— " Dumb ! " cried Lord Guilford ; " bless me, I 
thought yo^i were dumb." — I told this story (which 
is perfectly true) to Matthews ; and he said that he 
could make excellent use of it at one of his evening- 
entertainments : but I know not if he ever did. 



I can discover from a poet's versification whether 
or not he has an ear for music. Shakespeare's, Mil- 
ton's, Dryden's, and Gray's prove to me that they 
had it ; Pope's that he had it not : — indeed, with 
respect to Shakespeare, the passage in The Mer- 
chant of Ye7iice* would be enough to settle the 
question. To instance poets of the present day ; — 
from Bowles's and Moore's versification, I should 

* " The man that hath no music in himself, 

Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet soimds, 

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 

The motions of his spirit are dull as night. 

And his affections dark as Erebus : 

Let no such man be trusted." Act v. so. 1. — Bd. 



222 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

know that they liacl fine ears for music ; from 
Southey's, Wordsworth's, and Byron's, that they 
had no ears for it. 



To any one who has reached a very advanced 
age, a walk through the streets of London is like a 
walk in a cemetery. How many houses do I pass, 
now inhabited by strangers, in which I used to 
spend such happy hours with those who have long 
been dead and gone ! 



A friend of mine in Portland Place has a wife 
who inflicts upon him every season two or three im- 
mense evening parties. At one of those parties he 
was standing in a very forlorn condition, leaning 
against the chimney-piece, when a gentleman, com- 
ing up to him, said, " Sir, as neither of us is ac- 
quainted with any of the people here, I think we 
had best go home." 



One of the books which I never tire reading is 
Memoires sur la vie de Jean Racine, by his son. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KQGEES. 223 

When I was living in the Temple, the chimneys 
of one of my neighbours were to he swept. Up went 
two boys ; and at the end of an hour they had not 
come down again. Two other boys were then sent 
up ; and up they remained also. The master of the 
boys was now summoned, who, on his arrival, ex- 
claimed, " Oh, the idle little rascals ! they are play- 
ing at all-fours on the top of the chimney." And, 
to be sure, there they were, trumping it away at their 
ease. I suppose spades were their favourite cards. 



How little Crowe is known * even to persons who 
are fond of poetry ! Yet his Lewesdon Hill is full 
of noble passages ; for instance, that about the Hals- 
well ; 

[" See how the sun, here clouded, afar off 
Pours down the golden radiance of his hght 
Upon the enridged sea ; where the hlack ship 
Sails on the phosphor-seeming waves. So fair, 
But falsely-flattering, was yon surface calm, 

* So very little known, that I give at fuU length those pas- 
sages of his poems which Mr. Rogers particularly admired. — 
Ed. 



224: EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

When forth for India sail'd, in evil time, 
That vessel, whose disastrous fate, when told, 
Fill'd every breast with horror, and each eye 
"With piteous tears, so cruel was the loss. 
Methinks I see her, as, by the wintry storm 
Shatter'd and driven along past yonder isle, 
She strove, her latest hope, by strength or art, 
To gain the port within it, or at worst 
To shun that harbourless and hollow coast 
From Portland eastward to the promontory 
Where still St. Alban's high-built chapel stands. 
But art nor strength avail her — on she drives, 
In storm and darkness, to the fatal coast ; 
And there 'mong rocks and high o'er-hanging cliflfa 
Dash'd piteously, with all her precious freight 
Was lost, by Neptune's wild and foamy jaws 
Swallow'd up quick ! The richliest-laden ship 
Of spicy Ternate, or that annual sent 
To the Philippines o'er the southern main 
From Acapulco, carrying massy gold, 
Were poor to this ; — freighted with hopeful Youth, 
And Beauty, and high Courage undismay'd 
By mortal terrors, and paternal Love 
Strong, and unconquerable even in death — 
Alas, they perish'd all, all iu one hour I "] 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJMUEL ROGERS. 225 

The conclusion of the poem is charming : 

[" But ill accords my verse with the delights 
Of this gay month : — ^and see, the villagers 
Assembling jocund in their best attire, 
To grace this genial morn, ^ow I descend 
To join the worldly crowd ; perchance to talk, 
To think, to act, as they : then all these thoughts, 
That lift th' expanded heart above this spot 
To heavenly musing, these shall pass away 
(Even as this goodly prospect from my view), 
Hidden by near and earthly-rooted cares. 
So passeth human life — our better mind 
Is as a Sunday's garment, then put on 
When we have nought to do ; but at our work 
We wear a worse for thrift. Of this enough : 
To-morrow for severer thought ; but now 
To breakfast, and keep festival to-day." ] 

Of Crowe's Ve?'ses intended to have heen spoken 
in the Theatre at Oxford on the Installation of the 
Duke of Portland as Chancellor of the University, 
a portion is very grand ; 

[" If the stroke of war 

Fell certain on the guilty head, none else, 
10* 



226 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

If they that make the cause might taste th' effect, 
And drink, themselves, the bitter cup they mix, 
Then might the bard (though child of peace) delight 
To twine fresh wreaths around the conqueror's brow ; 
Or haply strike his high-ton'd harp, to swell 
The trumpet's martial sound, and bid them on 
Whom justice arms for vengeance : but, alas ! 
That undistinguishing and deathful storm 
Beats heaviest on th' exposed innocent, 
And they that stir its fary, while it raves, 
Stand at safe distance, send their mandate forth 
Unto the mortal ministers that wait 
To do their bidding. — Oh, who then regards 
The widow's tears, the friendless orphan's cry, 
And Famine, and the ghastly train of woes 
That follow at the dogged heels of War ? 
They, in the pomp and pride of victory 
Eejoicing, o'er the desolated earth, 
As at an altar wet with human blood, 
And flaming with the fire of cities burnt, 
^ Sing their mad hymns of triumph; hymns to God, 
O'er the destruction of his gracious works ! 
Hymns to the Father, o'er his slaughter'd sons ! " ] 

Crowe was an intimate friend of mine. — When I was 



TAJBLE-TALK OF SAJSIUEL EOGEES. 227 

travelling in Italy, I made two autlioi:s my constant 
study for versification, — Milton and Crowe. 



Most people are ever on the watch to find fault 
with their children, and are afraid of praising them 
for fear of sjpoiling them. Now, I am sure that no- 
thing has a better effect on children \hdin: ^aise. I 
had a proof of this in Moore's daughter : he used 
always to be saying to her, "What a good little 
girl ! " and she continued to grow more and more 
good, till she became too good for this world and 
died. 



Did ever poet, di-amatist, or novel-writer, devise 
a more effective incident than the falling of the rug 
in Molly Seagrim's bedroom ? * Can any thing be 
more happily ludicrous, when we consider how the 
actors in that scene are connected with each other ? 
It probably suggested to Sheridan the falling of the 
screen in The School for Scandal.^ 



* See Fielding's Tom Jones, h. v. ch. 5. — Ed. 
\ No doubt it did ; as the Jones and Blifil of the same novel sug- 
gested to him Charles and Joseph Surface. — Ed. 



228 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

ITeither Moore nor mjself had ever seen Bjron 
when it was settled that he should dine at my house 
to meet Moore ; nor was' he known by sight to 
Campbell, who, happening to call upon me that 
morning, consented to join the party. I thought it 
best that I alone should be in the drawing-room when 
Byron entered it; and Moore and Campbell ac- 
cordingly withdrew. Soon after his arrival, they 
returned ; and I introduced them to him severally, 
naming them as Adam named the beasts. When we 
sat down to dinner, I asked Byron if he would take 
soup ? "ISTo ; he never took soup." — "Would he take 
some fish ? " ISTo ; he never took fish." — ^Presently 
I asked him if he would eat some mutton ? "Wo; 
he never ate mutton." — 1 then asked him if he would 
take a glass of wine ? "ISTo; he never tasted wine." 
— It was now necessary to inquire what he did eat 
and drink ; and the answer was, " ISTothing but hard 
biscuits and soda-water." Unfortunately, neither 
hard biscuits nor soda-water were at hand ; and he 
dined upon potatoes bruised down on his plate and 
drenched with vinegar. — My guests stayed till very 
late, discussing the merits of Walter Scott and 
Joanna Baillie. — Some days after, meeting Hob- 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROaERS. 229 

house, I said to him, " How long will Lord Byron 
persevere in his present diet? " He replied, " Just 
as long as yon continue to notice it." — I did not 
then know, what I now know to be a fact, — that 
Byron, after leaving my house, had gone to a Club in 
St. James's Street, and eaten a hearty meat-supper. 

Byron sent me Childe Harold in the printed 
sheets before it was published; and I resd it to 
my sister. "This," I said, "in spite of all its 
beauty, will never please the public : they will dis- 
like the querulous repining tone that pervades it, 
and the dissolute character of the hero." But I 
quickly found that I was mistaken. Tlie genius 
which the poem exhibited, the youth, the rank of 
the author, his romantic wanderings in Greece, — 
these combined to make the world stark mad about 
Childe Harold and Byron. I knew two old maids 
in Buckinghamshire who used to cry over the pas- 
sage about Harold's "laughing dames" that "long 
had fed his youthful appetite," * &c. 

After Byron had become the rage^ I was fre- 
quently amused at the manoeuvres of certain noble 
ladies to get acquainted with him by means of me : 

* Canto i. st. 11.— Ed. 



230 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

for instance, I would receive a note from Lady 

requesting the pleasure of my company on a par- 
ticular evening, with a postscript, " Pray, could you 
not contrive to bring Lord Byron with you? " — Once, 
at a great party given by Lady Jersey, Mrs. Sheri- 
dan ran up to me and said, " Do, as a favour, try if 
you can place Lord Byron beside me at supper." 

Byron had prodigious facility of composition. 
He was fond of suppers ; and he used often to sup 
at my house and eat heartily (for he had then given 
up the hard biscuit and soda-water diet) : after going 
home, he would throw off sixty or eighty verses, 
which he would send to press next morning.'' 

He one evening took me to the green-room of 
Drury Lane Theatre, where I was much entertained. 
When the play began, I went round to the front of 
the house, and desired the box-keeper to show me 
into Lord Byron's box. I had been there about a 
minute, thinking myself quite alone, when suddenly 
Byron and Miss Boyce (the actress) emerged from 
a dark corner. 

In those days at least, Byron had no readiness of 
reply in conversation. If you happened to let fall 
any observation which offended him, he would say 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 231 

nothing at the time ; but the offence would lie rank- 
ling in his mind ; and perhaps a fortnight after, he 
would suddenly come out with some very cutting 
remarks upon you, giving them as his deliberate 
opinions, the results of his experience of your cha- 
racter. 

Several women were in love with Byron, but none 
so violently as Lady Caroline Lamb. She absolutely 
besieged him. He showed me the first letter he re- 
ceived from her ; in which she assured him that, if 
he was in any want of money, " all her jewels were 
at his service." Tliey frequently had quarrels ; and 
more than once, on coming home, I have found Lady 
C. walking in the garden,^^ and waiting for me, to 
beg that I would reconcile them. — When she met 
Byron at a party, she would always, if possible, re- 
turn home from it in his carriage, and accompanied 
by him : I recollect particularly their returning to 
town together from Holland House. — But such was 
the insanity of her passion for Byron, that sometimes, 
when not invited to a party where he was to bo, she 
would wait for him in the street till it was over ! 
One night, after a great party at Devonshire House, 

* Beliind Mr. Rogers's house, in St. James's Place. — Ed. 



232 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

to which Lady Caroline had not been invited, I sa^w 
her, — ^yes, saw her, — talking to Byron, with half of 
her body thrust into the carriage which he had just 
entered. In spite of all this absurdity, my firm be- 
lief is that there was nothing criminal between them. 

Byron at last was sick of her. When their inti- 
macy was at an end, and while she was living in the 
country, she burned, very solemnly, on a sort of 
funeral pile, transcripts of all the letters which she 
had received from Byron, and a copy of a miniature 
(his portrait) which he had presented to her ; se- 
veral girls from the neighbourhood, whom she had 
dressed in white garments, dancing round the pile, 
and singing a song which she had written for the 
occasion, "Burn, fire, burn," &c. — She was mad; 
and her family allowed her to do whatever she chose. 

Latterly, I believe, Byron never dined with Lady 
B. ; for it was one of his fancies (or afi'ectations) that 
"he could not endure to see women eat." I recollect 
that he once refused to meet Madame de Stael at 
my house at dinner, but came in the evening : and 
when I have asked him to dinner without mention- 
ing what company I was to have, he would write me 
a note to inquire "if I had invited any women." 



TABLE-TALK OF SAIVIUEL ROGEES. 233 

Wilkes's daughter may have had a right to burn 
her father's Memoirs ; * but Moore, I conceive, was 
not justified in giving his consent to the burning of 
Byron's : when Byron told him that he might '• do 
whatever he pleased with them," Byron certainly 
never contemplated their being burned. K Moore 
had made me his confidant in the business, I should 
have protested warmly against the destruction of the 
Memoirs : but he chose Luttrell, probably because 
he thought him the more fashionable man ; and Lut- 
trell, who cared nothing about the matter, readily 
voted that they should be put into the fire. — ^There 
were, I understand, some gross things in that manu- 
script ; but I read only a portion of it, and did not 
light upon them. I remember that it contained this 
anecdote : — on his marriage-night, Byron suddenly 
started out of his first sleep : a taper, which burned 
in the room, was casting a ruddy glare through the 
crimson curtains of the bed ; and he could not help 
exclaiming, in a voice so loud that he wakened Lady 
B., " Good God, I am surely in hell! " 

* " Wilkes said to me, ' I have written my Memoirs, and they are 
to be published by Peter Elmsley, after my ascension.' They were 
burnt by his daughter." Mr. Majltby (see notice prefixed to the 
Porsoniana in this volume). — Ed. 



234 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

My latest intercourse with Byron was in Italy. 
We travelled some time together ; and, if there was 
any scenery particularly well worth seeing, he gene- 
rally contrived that we should pass through it in the 
dark. 

As we were crossing the Apennines, he told me 
that he had left an order in his will that Allegra, the 
child who soon after died, his daughter by Miss C, 
should never he taught the English language. — You 
know that Allegra was buried at Harrow : but pro- 
bably you have not heard that the body was sent 
over to England in two packages, that no one might 
suspect what it was. 

About the same time he said, — being at last 
assured that the celebrated critique on his early 
poems in The Edinhiirgli Review was written by 
Lord Brougham, — " If I ever return to England, 
Brougham shall hear from me." He added, " That 
critique cost me three bottles of claret " (to raise his 
spirits after reading it).* 

* Wordsworth was spending an evening at Charles Lamb's, when 
he first saw the said critique, which had just appeared. He read it 
through, and remarked tliat " though Byron's verses were probably 
poor enough, yet such an attack was abominable, — that a young no- 
bleman, who took to poetry, deserved to he encouraged, not ridiculed." 
Perhaps if this had been made known to Byron, he would not have 



TABLE-TALK OF SAilUEL KOGEES. 235 

One day, during dinner, at Pisa,'^'" wlien Slielley 
and Trelawney were with, us, Byron chose to run 
down Shakespeare (for whom he, like Sheridan, 
either had, or pretended to have, little admiration). 
I said nothing. But Shelley immediately took up 
the defence of the great poet, and conducted it in 
his usual meek yet resolute manner, unmoved by 

spoken of Wordsworth as he has done. — Many years ago Wordsworth 
gave me the following account, which I noted down at the time. 
" Lord Byron's hatred towards me oi'iginated thus. There was a wo- 
man in distressed circumstances at Bristol, who wrote a volume of 
poems, which she wished to publish and dedicate to me. She had 
formed an idea that, if she became a poetess, her fortune would be 
made. I endeavoured to dissuade her from indulging such vain ex- 
pectations, and advised her to turn her attention to something else. I 
represented to her how little chance there was that her poems, though 
really evincing a good deal of talent, would make any impression on 
the public ; and I observed that, in our day, two persons only (whom 
I did not name) had succeeded in making money by their poetry, add- 
ing that in the writings of the one (Sir Walter Scott) there was little 
poetic feeling, and that in those of the other (Lord Byron) it was per- 
verted. Mr. Rogers told me that when he was travelling with Lord 
Byron in Italy, his lordship confessed that the hatred he bore me 
arose from the remark about his poetry which I had made to that wo- 
man, and which some good-natured friend had repeated to him." — 
Ed. 

* In Moore's Life of Byi-on no mention is made of Mr. Rogers 
having been Byron's guest at Pisa. — In Med win's Angler in Wales, 
i. 25, is an account, — exaggerated perhaps, but doubtless substan- 
tially true, — of Byron's uicked behaviour to Mr. Rogers at the Casa 
Lanfranchi. — Ed. 



236 KECOLLECTIONS OF THT, 

the rude things with which Byi'on interrupted him,-— 
" Oh, that's very well for an atheist^ &c. (Before 
meeting Shelley in Italy, I had seen him only once. 
It was at my own house in St. James's Place, where 
he called upon me, — -introducing himself, — to re- 
quest the loan of some money which he wished to 
present to Leigh Hunt ; and he offered me a bond 
for it. Having numerous claims upon me at that 
time, I was obliged to refuse the loan. Botli in 
appearance and in manners Shelley was the perfect 
gentleman.) — That same day, after dinner, I walked 
in the garden with Byron. At the window of a 
neighbouring house was a young woman holding a 
child in her arms. Byron nodded to her with a 
smile, and then, turning to me, said, " That child is 
mine." In the evening, we {j.. e. Byron, Shelley, 
Trelawney, and I) rode out from Pisa to a farm (a 
podere) ; and there a pistol was put into my hand 
for shooting at a mark (a favourite amusement of 
Byron); but I declined trying my skill with it. 
The farm-keeper's daughter was very pretty, and 
had her arms covered with bracelets, the gift of 
Byron, who did not fail to let me know that she was 
one of his many loves. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJVIUEL EOGEES. 237 

I went with him to see the Campo Santo at Pisa. 
It was shown to us by a man who had two hand- 
some daugliters. Byron tokl me that he had in 
vain paid his addresses to the ekler daughter, but 
that he was on the most intimate terms with the 
other. Probably there was not one syllable of truth 
in all this ; for he always had the weakness of wish- 
ing to be thought much worse than he really was. 

Byron, like Sir Walter Scott,* was without any 
feeling for the fine arts. He accompanied me to 
the Pitti Palace at Florence ; but soon growing 
tired of looking at the j)ictures, he sat down in a 
corner; and when I called out to him, "What a 
noble Andrea del Sarto ! " the only answer I re- 
ceived was his muttering a passage from The Vicar 
of Wakefield, — " Upon asking how he had been 
taught the art of a cognoscento so very suddenly," 
&c.t (When he and Hobhouse were standing be- 

* " During Scott's first visit to Paris, I walked with him (aud 
Richard Sharp) through the Louvre, and pointed out for his particular 
notice the St. Jerome of Domenichino, and some other chefs-d'oeuvre. 
Scott merely glanced at them, and passed on, saying, ' I really have 
not time to examine them.' " Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to 
the Porsoniana in this volume). — Ed. 

I " Upon asking how he had been taught the art of a cognoscento 
so very suddenly, he assured me that nothing was more easy. The 



238 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

fore the Parthenon, the latter said, " Well, this is 
surely very grand." Byron rej)lied, " Very like the 
Mansion-House.- ' ) 

At this time we generally had a regular quarrel 
every night ; and he would abuse me through thick 
and thin, raking up all the stories he had heard 
which he thought most likely to mortify me, — ^how 
I had behaved with great cruelty to Murphy, re- 
fusing to assist him in his distress, &c. &c. But next 
morning he would shake me kindly by both hands ; 
and we were excellent friends again. 

When I parted from him in Italy (never to meet 
him more), a good many persons were looking on, 
anxious to catch a glimpse of the " famous lord." 

Campbell used to say that the lines which first 
convinced him that Byron was a true poet were 
these ; 

" Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild ; 
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, 



whole secret consisted in a strict adlierence to two rules ; the one, 
always to observe the picture might have been better if the painter 
liad taken more pains ; and the other, to praise the works of Pietro 
Perugino." Chap. xx. Compare Byron's own account of this visit to 
the Pitti Palace in his Life by Moore, vol. v. 279. — Ed. 



TABLE-TAiK OF SAIMTJEL EOGEKS. 239 

Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smil'd, 
And still his honied wealth Hymettus yields ; 
There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress buiHs, 
The free-born wanderer of thy mountain air ; 
ApoUo still thy long, long summer gilds, 
Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare ; 
Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair. 

Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted, holy ground. 
No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould. 
But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, 
And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, 
Till the sense aches with gazing to behold 
The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon : 
Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold 
Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone : 
Age shakes Athenae's tower, but spares gray Marathon." * 

For my own part, I think that this passage is 
perhaps the best that Byron ever wrote ; 

" To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell. 
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene. 
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, 
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; 

* Childe Harold, c. ii. st. 87, 88.— Ed. 



240 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, 
With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; 
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; 
This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold 
Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores 
unroll'd. 

But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men. 
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess. 
And roam along, the world's tir'd denizen, 
"With none who bless us, none whom we can bless ; 
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress ! 
None that, with kindred consciousness endued. 
If we were not, would seem to smile the less. 
Of all that flatter'd, foUow'd, sought, and sued j 
This is to be alone ; this, this is solitude." * 

The lines in tlie third canto of Childe Harold 
about the ball given by the Duchess of Richmond 
at Brussels, the night before the battle of Waterloo, 
&c., are very striking. The Duchess told me that 
she had a list of her company, and that after the 
battle, she added " dead" to the names of those who 
had fallen, — the number being fearful. 

* Chiide Harold, c. ii. st. 25, 26. — ^Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 241 

Mrs. Barbaiild once observed to me that she 
thouglit Byron wrote best when he wrote about the 
sea or swimming. 

There is a great deal of incorrect and hasty writ- 
ing in Byron's works ; but it is overlooked in this 
age of hasty readers. For instance, 

" I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, 
A palace and a prison on each Tiandy * 

He meant to say, that on one hand was a palace, on 
the other a prison, — And what think you of — 

" And dashest him again to earth : — there let him lay "?t 



Mr. 's house, the , is very splendid ; 

it contains a quantity of or-molu. ]^ow, I like to 

* ChUde Harold, c. iv. st. 1. — Ed. 

f Id. c. iv. St. 180. — A lady resident in Aberdeen told me that 
she used to sit in a pew of St. Paul's Chapel in that town, next to 
Mrs. Byron's ; and that one Sunday she observed the poet (then 
about seven or eight years old) amusing himself by disturbing his 
mother's devotions : he every now and then gently pricked with 
a pin the large round arms of Mrs. Byron, which were covered 
with white kid gloves. — Professor Stuart, of the Marischal College, 
Aberdeen, mentioned to me the following proof of Lord Byron's 
fondness for his mother. Georgy, and some other little boys, were 
one day allowed, much to their delight, to assist at a gathering of 
apules in the Professor's gnrden, and were rewarded for their labour 
1 1 



242 . KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

have a kettle in my becl-room, to heat a little water 

if necessary : but I can't get a kettle at the , 

though there is a quantity of or-moxii. Lady 

says, that when she is at the • , she is obliged to 

have her clothes unpacked three times a day ; for 
there are no chests-of-drawers, though there is a 
quantity of or-molu. 



The letters I receive from people, of both sexes 
(people whom I never heard of), asking me for 
money, either as a gift or as a loan, are really innu- 
merable. Here's one " from a student at Durham, 

with some of the fniit. Georgy, having received his portion of apples, 
immediately disappeared ; and, on his return, after half-an-hour's 
absence, to the inquiry where he had been, he repUed that he had been 
" carrying some apples to his poor dear mother." 

At the house of the Eev. W. Harness I remember hearing Moore 
remark, that he thought the natural bent of Byron's genius was to 
satirical and burlesque poetry ; on which Mr. Harness related what 
follows. When Byron was at Harrow, he, one day, seeing a young 
acquaintance at a short distance who was a violent admirer of Buona- 
parte, roared out this extemporaneous couplet — 

"Bold Robert Speer was Sony's bad precursor; 
Bob was a bloody dog, but Bonapards a icorserP 

Moire immediately wrote the lines down, with the intention of insert- 
ing them in his Life of Byron, which he was then preparing ; but they 
do not appear in that work. — Ed. 
* I read the letter. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAIMUEL EOGEKS. 243 

requesting me to lend liim 90^. (how modest to stop 
short of the hundred!). I lately had a begging- 
epistle from a lady, who assured me that she used 
formerly to take evening walks with me in the 
Park : of course I did not answer it ; and a day or 
two after, I had a second letter from her, beginning 
" Unkind one ! " 



Uvedale Price* once chose to stay so long at 
my house, that I began to think he would never go 
away : so I one day ingeniously said to him, " You 
must not leave me before the end of next weeJc y if 
you insist on going after that, you may ; but cer- 
tainly not before." And at the end of the week he 
did go. • He was a most elegant letter- writer ; and 
his son had some intention of collecting and pub- 
lishing his correspondence. 



Not long before Mrs. Inchbald died, I met her 
walking near Charing Cross. She told me that she 
had been calling on several old friends, but had 

* Afterwards a baronet. — Ed. 



244 



RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 



seen none of tliem, — some being really not at home 
and others denying themselves to her. " I called," 
she said, " on Mrs. Siddons : I knew she was at 
home ; yet I was not admitted." She was in such 
low spirits, that she even shed tears. I begged her 
to tnrn with me, and take a qniet dinner at St. 
James's Place; but she refused. 

The "excellent writer," whom I quote in my 
JSTotes on Human Life, is Mrs. Inchbald. [" How 
often, says an excellent writer, do we err in our 
estimate of haj)j)iness ! When I hear of a man who 
has noble parks, splendid palaces, and every luxury 
in life, I always inquire whom he has to love ; and 
if I find he has nobody, or does not love those he 
has — in the midst of all his grandeur, I pronounce 
him a being in deep adversity."] The passage is 
from her Nature and Art', * and Stewart Hose was 

* But Mr. Rogers (as he frequently did when he quoted) has 
considerably altered the passage. Mrs. Inchbald's words are: — 
" Some persons, I know, estimate happiness by fine houses, gardens, 
and parks, — others by pictures, horses, money, and various things 
wholly remote from their own species : but when I wish to ascer- 
tain the real felicity of any rational man, I always inquire wlwm he 
has to love. If I find he has nobody — or does not love those he has 
— even in the midst of all his profusion of finery and grandeur, 1 
pronounce him a being in deep adversity." Vol. ii. 84, ed. 1796. 
—Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 245 

SO struck with it, that he wrote to ask me where it 
was to he found. 



I have heard Crabbe describe his mingled feel- 
ings of hope and fear as he stood on London Bridge, 
when he first came up to town to try his fortune in 
the literary world. 

Tlie situation of domestic chaplain in a great 
family is generally a miserable one : what slights 
and mortifications attend it ! Crabbe had had his 
share of such troubles in the Duke of Rutland's 
family ; and I well remember that, at a London 
evening party, where the old Duchess of Rutland * 
was present, he had a violent struggle with his feel- 
ings before he could prevail on himself to go up and 
pay his respects to her. 

Crabbe, after his literary reputation had been 
established, was staying for a few days at the Old 
Hummums ; but he was known to the people in the 
coffee-room and to the waiters merely as "a Mr. 
Crabbe." One forenoon, when he had gone out, a 
gentleman called on him, and, while expressing his 
regret at not finding him at home, happened to let 

* In her youth a very celebrated beauty. She died in 1831. — Ed. 



246 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

drop tlie information that " Mr. Crabbe was the 
celebrated poet." The next time that Crabbe en- 
tered the coffee-room, he was perfectly astonished 
at the sensation which he caused ; the company 
were all eagerness to look at him, the waiters all 
officiousness to serve him. 

Crabbe's early poetry 15 by far the best, as to 
finish. The conclusion of The Library is charm- 
ingly written ; 

" Go on, then, son of Vision ! still pursue 
Thy airy dreams — the world is dreaming too. 
Ambition's lofty views, the pomp of state. 
The pride of wealth, the splendours of the great, 
Stripp'd of their mask, their cares and troubles known. 
Are visions far less happy than thy own : 
Go on ! and, whUe the sons of care complain, 
Be wisely gay and innocently vain ; 
While serious souls are by their fears undone, 
Blow sportive bladders in the beamy sun. 
And call them worlds ! and bid the greatest show 
More radiant colours in their worlds below : 
Then, as they break, the slaves of care reprove. 
And tell them, Such are all the toys they love." 

I asked him why he did not compose his later 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 24Y 

verses with equal care. He answered, "Because 
my reputation is already made." When he after- 
wards told me that he never produced more than 
forty verses a day, I said that he had better do as I 
do, — stint himself to four. 

There is a familiarity in some parts of his Tales 
which makes one smile ; yet it is by no means un- 
pleasing; for example, — 

" Letters were sent when franks could be procured, 
And when they could not, silence was endured." * 

Crabbe used often to repeat with praise this 
couplet from Prior's Solomon^\ 

" Abra was ready ere I called her name. 
And though I call'd another, Abra came." 

It is somewhere cited by Sir Walter Scott ; :j: and 
I apprehend that Crabbe made it known to him. 



Other statesmen, besides Sir Robert Peel, have 
had very violent things said against them in the 

* TTie Frank Courtship. — Ed. 
f B. ii.— Ed. 

\ Scott quotes it (not quite correctly) in Rob Roy, vol. lii. 324, ed. 
1818.— Ed. 



248 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

House. Lord ITortli once complained, in a speech, 
of the " brutal language " which Colonel Barre had 
used towards him. — Colonel Tarleton, not indeed in 
the House, but in private among his own party, 
said that he was glad to &ee Fox's legs swelled. 

Sir Robert Peel, in one of his communicative 
moods, told me that, when he was a boy, his father 
used to say to him, " Bob, you dog, if you are not 
prime minister some day, I'll disinherit you." I 
mentioned this to Sir Robert's sister, Mrs. Dawson, 
who assured me that she had often heard her father 
use those very words. 



It is curious how fashion changes pronunciation. 
In m}^ youth everybody said "Lonnon," not Lon- 
don : " Fox said " Lonnon " to the last ; and so did 
Crowe. Tlie now fashionable pronunciation of seve- 
ral words is to me at least very offensive : " contem- 
plate" is bad enough; but "balcony" makes me 
sick. 



When George Colman brought out his Iron 
Chest, he had not the civility to offer Godwin a box, 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 249 

or even to send liim an order for admission, though 
the play was dramatised from Caleb Williams. Of 
this Godwin spoke with great bitterness. — Godwin 
was generally reckoned a disagreeable man ; but I 
must say that / did not consider him such.* 



Ah, the fate of my old acquaintance. Lady Salis- 
bury ! The very morning of the day on which the 
catastrophe occurred, I quitted Hatfield ; and I then 
shook her by the hand, — that hand which was so 
soon to be a cinder. In the evening, after she had 
been dressed for dinner, her maid left her to go to 
tea. She was then writing letters ; and it is sup- 
posed that, having stooped down her head, — ^for she 
was very short-sighted,' — the flame of the candle 
caught her head-dress. Strange enough, but we had 
all remarked the day before, that Lady Salisbury 

* One evening at Mr. Rogers's, when Godwin was present, the 
conversation turned on novels and romances. The company havino' 
agreed that Don Quixote, Toni Jones, and Gil Bias, were unrivalled 
in that species of composition, Mr. Rogers said, "Well, after these, 
/■go to the sofa" (meaning, "/think that the nest best are by God- 
win," who happened to be sitting on the sofa). Quite unconscious 
of the compliment paid to him, Godwin exclaimed in great surprise, 
" What ! do you admire The Sofa ? " (a licentious novel by the younger 

Crebillon). — Ed. 
11* 



250 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

seemed most unusually depressed in spirits ! — Hei 
eyes, as is generally the case with short-sighted per- 
sons, were so good, that she could read without spec- 
tacles : being very deaf, she would often read when 
in company ; and, as she was a bad sleeper, she 
would sometimes read nearly the whole night. 

Lady Salisbury never had any pretensions to 
beauty. In her youth she was dancing in a coun- 
try-dance with the Prince of Wales at a ball given 
by the Duchess of Devonshire, when the Prince 
suddenly quitted Lady Salisbury, and finished the 
dance with the Duchess. This rude behaviour of 
his Royal Highness drew forth some lines from 
Captain Morris. 

[" Ungallant youth ! could royal Edward see, 

While Salisbury's Garter decks thy faithless knee, 
That thou, false knight ! hadst turn'd thy back, and fled 
From such a Salisbury as might wake the dead ; 
Quick from thy treacherous breast her badge he'd tear, 
And strip the star that beauty planted there." ] 



Madame de Stael one day said to me, "How 
Borry I am for Campbell ! his poverty so unsettles 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 251 

his mind, that he cannot write." I replied, " Wliy 
does he not take the situation of a clerk ? he could 
then compose verses during his leisure hours." This 
answer was reckoned very cruel both by Madame 
de Stael and Mackintosh : but there was really kind- 
ness as well as truth in it. When literature is the 
sole business of life, it becomes a drudgery : when 
we are able to resort to it only at certain hours, it 
is a charming relaxation. In my earlier years I was 
a banker's clerk, obliged to be at the desk every 
day from ten till five o'clock ; and I never shall for- 
get the delight with which, on returning home, I 
used to read and write during the evening. 

There are some of Campbell's lyrics which will 
never die. His Pleasures of Hojpe is no great fa- 
vourite with me.* T!\ie feeling throughout his Ger- 

* And it was mucii less so with Wordsworth, who criticised it to 
me nearly verbatim as follows ; nor could his criticism, I apprehen<3, 
be easily refuted. "Campbell's Pfeas?/res q/'^qpe has been strangely 
oveiTated : its fine words and sounding lines please the generality 
of readers, who never stop to ask themselves the meaning of a passage 
The lines, — 

' Where Andes, giant of the western wave, 
With meteor-standard to the M'inds unfurl'd, 
Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world,' 
are sheer nonsense — nothing more than a poetical indigestion. 
What has a giant to do with a star ? What is a meteor-standard ? 



252 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

trude is very beautiful ; and one line, describing 
Gertrude's eyes, is exquisite, — " those eyes," 

" That seeni'd to love wTiate'er they looToil upon.''''* 

But that poem has passages which are monstrously 
incorrect : can any thing be worse in expression 

than — 

" Love ! in such a wilderness as this, 
"Where transport and security entwine, 
Here is the empire of thy perfect Hiss, 
And here thou art indeed a god divine "?t 



I cannot forgive Goethe for certain things in his 
Faust and Wilhelm Jfeister : the man who appeals 
to the worst part of my nature commits a great 
offence. 



— but it is useless to inquire what such stuff means. Once, at my 
house, Professor Wilson having spoken of those lines with great 
admiration, a very sensible and accomplished lady who happened to 
be present begged him to explain to her their meaning. He was 
extremely indignant ; and, taking down the Pleasures of Hope from 
a shelf, read the lines aloud, and declared that they were splendid. 
' Well, sir,' said the lady, ' but tchat do they mean ? ' Dashing the book 
on the floor, he exclaimed in his broad Scottish accent, ' I'U be daumed 
if I can tell ! ' ='— Ed. 

* Part ii. st. 4.— Ed. + Part Hi. st. 1.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 253 

The talking openly of their own merits is a "mag- 
nanimity" peculiar to foreigners. You remember 
the angry surprise which Lamartine exjjresses at 
Lady Hester Stanhope's never having heard, of him, 
— of him, a person so celebrated over all the world ! 

Lamartine is a man of genius, but very aifected, 
Talleyrand (wheii in London) invited me to meet 
him, and placed me beside him at dinner. I asked 
him, " Are you acquainted with Beranger ? " " No ; 
he wished to be introduced to me, but I declined it." 
— "I would go," said I, "a league to see him." 
This was nearly all our conversation : he did 'not 
choose to talk. Li short, lie was so disagreeable, 
that, some days after, both Talleyrand and the 
Duchess di Dino apologised to me for his ill-breed- 
ing. 



At present new plays seem hardly to be regarded 
as literature ; people may go to see them acted, but 
no one thinks of reading them. During the run of 
Paul Pry J I happened to be at a dinner-party where 
every body was talking about it, — that is, about 
Listen's performance of the hero. I asked first one 
person, then another, and then another, who was the 



254: EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

author of it ? !Not a man or woman in the company 
knew that it was written by Poole ! 



When people have had misunderstandings with 
each other, and are anxious to be again on good 
terms, they ought never to make attempts at recon- 
ciliation by means of letters ; tliey should see each 
other. Sir Walter Scott quarrelled with Lady Roslin, 
in consequence, I believe, of some expressions he had 
used about Fox, " If Scott," said she, " instead of 
writing to me on the subject, had only paid me a 
visit, I must have forgiven him." 

There had been for some time a coolness between 
Lord Durham and myself ; and I was not a little 
annoyed to find that I was to sit next him at one 
of the Royal Academy dinners : I requested the 
stewards to change my place at the table ; but it 
was too late to make any alteration. We sat down. 
Lord Durham took no notice of me. At last I said 
to him, " Will your lordship do me the honour of 
drinking a glass of wine with me ? " He answered, 
" Certainly, on condition that you will come and dine 
with me soon." 



TABLE-TAX,K OF SAJSIUEL EOGEKS, 255 

This is not a bad charade : "What is it that causes 
a cold, cures a cold, and pays the doctor ? A draft. 



I hope to read Ariosto through once more before 
I die, if not in the original, in Harrington's transla- 
tion, which in some parts is very well done ; in one 
part, — the story of Jocondo, — admirably. 

Kose's version is so bald^* that it wearies me. I 
read the whole of it, by Rose's desire, in the proof 
sheets. — At one time Eose gave himself up so en- 
tirely to Italian, that he declared " he felt some dif- 
ficulty in using his native language." 

Once, when Eose complained to me of being un- 
happy " from the recollection of having done many 
things wliicli he wished he had not done," I com- 
forted him by replying, " I know that during your 
life you have done many kind and generous things; 
but tliem you have forgotten, because a 'inarms good \ 
deeds fade away from his memory, while thosewhich 
a/re the reverse Iceep consta/ntly recurring to it^ 

* Rose's version of Ariosto is sometimes rather flat ; but surely it 
is, on the whole, far superior to any other English one. Tl e brilliancy 
and the airy grace of the original are almost beyond the reach of a 
translator. — Ed. 



256 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

He was in a sad state of mental imbecility sliortl'ji 
before liis death. When people attempted to enter 
into conversation with him, he would continue to 
ask them two questions, — " "When did Sir Walter 
Scott die ? " and " How is Lord Holland ? " (who was 
already dead.) But I, aware that no subject is so 
exciting to an author as that of his own writings, 
spoke to Rose about his various publications ; and, 
for a while, he talked of them rationally enough. — 
Pa/rtenopex of Blois is his best work. 



Lord Grenville has more than once said to me at 
Dropmore, "What a frightful mistake it was to send 
such a person as Lord Castlereagh to the Congress of 
Vienna ! a man who was so ignorant, that he did not 
know the map of Europe ; and who could be won 
over to make any concessions by only being asked 
to breakfast with the Emperor." 

Castlereagh's education had been sadly neglect- 
ed ; but he possessed considerable talents, and was 
very amiable. 



1 have read Gilpin's Life of Cranmer several 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS, 257 

fimes tlirongli. What an interesting account he 
gives of the manner in which Cranmer passed the 
day ! — I often repeat a part of Cranmer's prayer at 
the stake — " O blessed Redeemer, who assumed not 
a mortal shape for small ojfe^ices, who died not to 
atone /b;' venial sins,''^'^ &c. 



I don't call Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver's 
Travels " novels : " they stand quite unrivalled for 
invention among all prose fictions. 

Wlien I was at Banbury, I happened to observe 
in the churchyard several inscriptions to the me- 
mory of persons named Gulliver ; and, on my return 
home, looking into Gulliver's Travels^ I found, to 
my surprise, that the said inscriptions are mentioned 
there as a confirmation of Mr. Gulliver's statement 
chat "his familv came from Oxfordshire." 



I am not sure that I would not rather have writ- 
ten Manzoni's Promessi Sposi than all Scott's novels. 
Manzoni's mother was a daughter of the famous 
Beccaria ; and I remember seeing her about sixty 

* P. 21L 



258 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

years ago at the liouse of tlie father of the Misses 
Berry : she was a very lively agreeable woman. 



Bowles, .like most other poets, was greatly de- 
pressed by the harsh criticisms of the reviewers. I 
advised him not to mind them ; and, eventually fol- 
lowing my advice, he became a much happier man. 
I suggested to him the subject of The Missionary ; 
and he was to dedicate it to me. He, however, 
dedicated it to a noble lord, who never, either by 
' word or letter, acknowledged the dedication. 

Bowles's nervous timidity is * the most ridiculous 
thing imaginable. Being passionately fond of music, 

* Wordsworth, Mrs. Wordsworth, their danghter, and Bowles, went 
upon the Thames in a hoat, one fine summer's day. Though the 
water was smooth as glass, Bowles very soon became so alarmed, that 
he insisted on being set ashore ; upon which Wordsworth said to him, 
" Your confessing your cowardice is the most striking instance of 
valour that I ever met with." This was told to me by Wordsworth 
himself. — What follows is from my Memoranda of Wordsworth's con- 
versation. "When Bowles's Sonnets first appeared, — a thin 4to pam- 
phlet, entitled Fourteen Sonnets, — I bought them in a waUc through 
London with my dear brother, who was afterwards drowned at sea. 
I read them as we went along ; and to the gi-eat annoyance of my 
brother, I stopped in a niche of London Bridge to finish the pamphlet. 
Bowles's short pieces are his best : his long poems are rather JiaccidJ" 
•—Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. 259 

he came to London expressly to attend the last com- 
memoration of Handel, After going into the Abbey, 
he observed that the door was closed : immediately 
he ran to the doorkeeper, exclaiming, " What ! am 
I to be shut lip here ?" and out he went, before he 
had heard a single note. I once bought a stall-ticket 
for him, that he might accompany me to the Opera ; 
but, just as we were stepping into the carriage, he 
said, "Dear me, your horses seem uncommonly 
frisky ; " and he stayed at home. 

" I never," said he, " had but one watch ; and I 
lost it the very first day I wore it." Mrs. Bowles 
whispered to me, " And if he got another to-day, he 
would lose it as quickly." 



Major Price* was a great favourite with George 
the Third, and ventured to say any thing to him. 
Tliey were walking together in the grounds at Wind- 
sor Castle, when the following dialogue took place. 
" I shall certainly," said the King, " order this tree 
to be cut doAvn." " If it is cut down, your majesty 
will have destroyed the finest tree about the Castle." 

* Brother to Sir Uvedale Price, and for many years vice-chamber- 
lain to Queen Charlotte. — Ed, 



260 BECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

— "Really, it is snrj)rising that people constantly 
oppose my wishes." " Permit me to observe, tliat 
if your majesty will not allow people to speak, yon 
will never hear the truth." " Well, Price, I believe 
you are right." 

"When the Duke of Clarence (William the Fourth) 
was a very young man, he happened to be dining 
at the Equerries' table. Among the company was 
Major Price. The Duke told one of his facetious 
stories. " Excellent ! " said Price ; " I wish I could 
believe it." "If you say that again, Price," cried 
the Duke, " I'll send this claret at your head." Price 
did say it again. Accordingly the claret came — 
and it was returned. I had this from Lord St. 
Helens, who was one of the party. 

Once, when in company with William the Fourth, 
I quite forgot that it is against all etiquette to ask a 
sovereign about his health ; and, on his saymg to 
me, " Mr. Rogers, I hope you are well," I replied, 
" Yery well, I thank your majesty: I trust that your 
majesty is quite well also.'''' JS'ever was a king in 
greater confusion ; he didn't know where to look, 
and stammered out, "Yes — yes — only a little 
rheumatism." 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 261 

I have several times breakfasted witli the Prin- 
cesses at Buckingham House. The Queen (Char- 
lotte) always breakfasted with the Eng : but she 
would join us afterwards, and read the newspapers 
to us or converse very agreeably. 



Dining one day with the Princess of "Wales 
(Queen Caroline), I heard her say that on her first 
arrival in this country, she could speak only one 
word of English. Soon after, I mentioned that cir- 
cumstance to a large party ; and a discussion arose 
what English word would be most useful for a per- 
son to know, supposing that person's knowledge 
of the language must be limited to a single word. 
The greater number of the company fixed on "Yes," 
But Lady Charlotte Lindsay said that she should 
prefer " No ; " because, though " Yes," never meant 
"No," — "No" very often meant "Yes." 

The Princess was very good-natured and agree- 
able. She once sent to me at four o'clock in the 
afternoon, to say that she was coming to sup with 
me that night. I returned word, that I should feel 
highly honoured by her coming, but that unfortu- 



262 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

nately it was too late to make up a party to meet 
her. She came, however, bringing with her Sir 
William Drummond. 

One night, after dining with her at Kensington 
Palace, 1 was sitting in the carriage, waiting for Sir 
Henrv Englefield to accompany me to town, when a 
sentinel, at about twenty yards' distance from me, 
was struck dead by a flash of lightning. I never 
beheld any thing like that flash : it was a body of 
flame, in the centre of which were quivering zigzag 
fires, such as artists put into the hand of Jupiter ; 
and, after being visible for a moment, it seemed to 
explode. I immediately returned to the hall of the 
Palace, where I found the servants standing in ter- 
ror, with their faces against the wall. 

I was to dine on a certain day with the Princess 
of Wales at Kensington, and, thinking that Ward 
(Lord Dudley) was to be of the party, I wrote to 
him, proposing that we should go together. His 
answer was, " Dear Rogers, I am not invited. The 
fact is, when I dined there last, I made several rather 
free jokes ; and the Princess, taking me perhaps for 
a clergyman, has not asked me back again." 

One night, at Kensington, I had the Princess for 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 263 

my partner in a country-dance of fourteen coiT]3le. 
I exerted myself to the utmost ; but not quite to 
her satisfaction, for she kept calling out to me, 
" Yite, vite ! " 

She was fond of going to public places incog. 
One forenoon, she sent me a note to say that she 
wished me to accompany her that evening to the 
theatre ; but I had an engagement which I did not 
choose to give up, and declined accompanying her. 
She took offence at this ; and our intercourse was 
broken off till we met in Italy. I was at an inn 
about a stage from Milan, when I saw Queen Caro- 
line's carriages in the court-yard. I kept myself 
quite close, and drew down the blinds of the sitting 
room : but the good-natm*ed Queen found out that 
I was there, and, coming to my window, knocked on 
it with her knuckles. In a moment we were the 
best friends possible ; and there, as afterwards in 
other parts of Italy, I dined and spent the day with 
her. Indeed, I once travelled during a whole night 
in the same carriage with her and Lady Charlotte 
Campbell ; when the shortness of her majesty's legs 
not allowing her to rest them on the seat opposite^ 
she wheeled herself round, and very coolly placed 



264 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

tliem on the lap of Lady Charlotte, who was sitting 
next to her. 



I remember Brighton before the Pavilion was 
built ; and in those days I have seen the Prince of 
Wales drinking tea in a public room of what was 
then the chief inn, just as other people did. 

At a great party given by Henry Hope in Caven- 
dish Square, Lady Jersey* said she had something 
particular to tell me ; so, not to be interrupted, we 
went into the gallery. As we were walking along 
it, we met the Prince of Wales, who, on seeing Lady 
Jersey, stopped for a moment, and then, drawing 
himself up, marched past her with a look of the 

* '^ The Prince one day said to Colonel WUIis, ' I am determined 
to break ofif my intimacy witli Lady Jersey ; and you must deliver 
the letter which announces to her my determination.' When Willis 
put it into Lady Jersey's hand, she said, before opening it, ' You have 
brought me a gilded dagger.' — Willis was on such familiar terms with 
the Prince, that he ventured to give his advice about his conduct. 
' If your royal highness,' he said, ' would only show yourself at the 
theatre or in the park, in company with the Princess, two or three 
times a year, the public would be quite content, and would not trouble 
themselves about your domestic proceedings.' The Prince replied, 
' Really, Willis, with the exception of Lord Moira, nobody ever pre- 
sumed to speak to me as you do.' The Prince was anxious to get rid 
of Lord Moira ; and hence his lordship's splendid banishment. — These 
anecdotes were told to me by Willis." — JVIr. Maltby (see notice pre- 
fixed to the Porsoniana in this volume). — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAJSniEL E0GEE8. 265 

utmost disdain. Lady Jersey returned the look to 
the full ; and, as soon as the Prince was gone, said 
to me with a smile, " Didn't I do it well ? " — ^I was 
taking a drive with Lady Jersey in her carriage, 
when I expressed (with great sincerity) my regret 
at being unmarried, saying that " if I had a wife, 
I should have somebody to care about m^." " Pray, 
Mr. Rogers," said Lady J., " how could you be sure 
that your wife would not care tnore ihout somebody 
else than ahout you ? " 

I was staying at Lord Bathurst's, when he had 
to communicate to the Prince Eegent the death of 
the Princess Charlotte. Tlie circumstances were 
these. Lord Bathurst was suddenly roused in the 
middle of the night by the arrival of the messenger 
to inform him that the Princess was dead. After a 
short consultation with his family, Lord Bathurst 
went to the Duke of York ; and his royal highness 
having immediately dressed himself, they proceeded 
together to Carlton House. On reaching it, they 
asked to see Sir Benjamin Bloomfield; and telling 
him what had occurred, they begged him to convey 
the melancholy tidings to the Prince Regent. Ho 
firmly refused to do so. Tliey then begged Sir Ben- 



266 EECOLLECTIOlSrS OF THE 

jamin to inform the Prince that they requested to 
see him on a matter of great importance. A message 
was brought back by Sir Benjamin, that the Prince 
already knew all they had to tell him, — viz. that the 
Princess had been delivered, and that the child was 
dead, — and that he declined seeing them at present. 
They again, by means of Sir Benjamin, urged their 
request ; and were at last admitted into the Prince's 
chamber. He was sitting up in bed ; and, as soon 
as they entered, he repeated what he had previously 
said by message, — that he already knew all they had 
to tell him, &c. Lord Bathurst then communicated 
the fatal result of the Princess's confinement. On 
hearing it, the Prince Regent struck his forehead 
violently with both his hands, and fell forward into 
the arms of the Duke of York. Among other ex- 
clamations which this intelligence drew from him, 
was, " Oh, what will become of that poor man 
(Prince Leopold) ! " — ^Yet, only six or seven hours 
had elapsed, when he was busily arranging all the 
pageantry for his daughter's funeral. 

The Duchess of Buckingham told me that, when 
George the Fourth slept at Stowe in the state bed- 
chamber (which has a good deal of ebony furniture), 



TABLE-TALK (^F SAMUEL ROGERS. 267 

it was lighted up with a vast number of wax cau- 
dles, which were kept burning the whole night. — 
Nobody, I imagine, except a king, has any liking 
for a state bedchamber. I was at Cassiobury with 
a large party, when a gentleman arrived, to whom 
Lord Essex said, " I must put you into the state 
bedi«oom, as it is the only one unoccupied." The 
gentleman, rather than sleep in it, took wp his quar- 
ters at the inn. 

'No one had more influence over George the 
Fourth than Sir William Knighton. Lawrence (the 
painter) told me that he was once dining at the 
palace when the King said to Kjiighton that he was 
resolved to discharge a particular attendant imme- 
diately. " Sir," replied Knighton, "he is an excel- 
lent servant." — "I am determined to discharge 
him," said the King. " Sir," replied Knighton, "he 
is an excellent" servant." — "Well, well," said the 
King, " let him remain till I think further of it." — • 
Speaking of Knighton to an intimate friend, George 
the Fourth remarked, " My obligations to Sir Wil- 
liam Knighton are greater than to any man alive : 
he has arranged all my accounts, and brouglit per- 
fect order out of chaos." 



268 BECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

One day wlien George tlie Fourtli was talking 
about his youthful exploits, lie mentioned, with par- 
ticular satisfaction, that he had made a body of 
troops charge down the Devil's Dyke (near Brigh- 
ton), Upon which the Duke of Wellington merely 
observed to him, " Yery steep, sir." 

I was told by the Duchess Countess of Suther- 
land what Sir Henry Halford had told her, — that, 
when George the Fourth was very near his end, he 
said to him, " Pray, Sir Henry, keep these women 
from me" (alluding to certain ladies). 



I'll tell you an anecdote of Kapoleon, which I 
had from Talleyrand. ' JSTapoleon," said T., 'was 
at Boulogne with the Army of England, when he 
received intelligence that the Austrians, under 
Mack, were at Ulm. ' If it had been mine to place 
them,' exclaimed ISTapoleon, ' I should have placed 
them there." In a moment the army was on the 
march, and he at Paris. I attended him to Strasburg. 
"We were there at the house of the Prefet, and no 
one in the room but ourselves, when Kapoleon was 
suddenly seized with a fit, foaming at the mouth ; 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL K0GEK8. 269 

he cried ' Fermez la porte ! ' and then lay senseless 
on the floor. I bolted the door. Presently, Berthier 
knocked. ' On ne pent pas entrer.' Afterwards, 
the Empress knocked ; to whom I addressed the 
same words. ISTow, what a situation would mine 
have been, if Napoleon had died ! But he recovered 
in about half an hour. Next morning, by daybreak, 
lie was in his carriage ; and within sixty hours the 
Austrian army had capitulated." 

I repeated the anecdote to Lucien Buonaparte,* 
who listened with great sang froid. " Did you ever 
hear this before ? " Never : but many great men 
have been subject to fits ; for instance, Julius Csesar. 
My brother, on another occasion, had an attack of 
the same kind ; but that " (and he smiled) " was 
after being defeated." f 

On my asking Talleyrand if Napoleon was really 
married to Josephine, he replied, "Pas tout-a-fait." 

I asked him which was the best portrait of Na- 

* Mr. Rogers was very intimate with Lucien, and liked hhn much ; 
yet he could not resist occasionally laughing at some things in his 
Charlemagne ; for instance, at, — 

" L'ange maudit admire et contemple Judas." 

c. is. ST.— Ed. ■ 

t An allusion to an adventure with an actress. — Ed. 



270 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

poleon. He said, "that wliicli represents him at 
Malmaison : it is by Isabey. The marble bust of 
]S"apoleon by Canova, which I gave to A. Baring, 
is an excellent likeness." 

" Did Napoleon shave himself? " I inquired. 
" Yes," answered Talleyrand, " but very slowly, and 
conversing during the operation. He used to say 
that kings by birth were shaved by others, but that 
he who has made himself Roi shaves himself." 

To my question — whether the despatch which 
Napoleon published on his retreat from Moscow 
was written by Napoleon himself, — ^Talleyrand re- 
plied, " By himself, certainly." 



Dr. Lawrence assured me that Burke shortened 
his life by the frequent use of emetics, — " he was 
always tickling his throat with a feather." He 
complained of an oppression at his chest, which he 
fancied emetics would remove. 

Malone (than whom no one was more intimate 
with Burke) persisted to the last in saying that, if 
Junius'' s Letters were not written by Burke, they 
were at least written by some person who had re- 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGEKS. 271 

ceived great assistance from Burke in composing 
them ; and lie was strongly inclined to fix the au- 
thorship of them upon Djer.* Burke had a great 
friendship for Dyer, whom he considered to be a 
man of transcendent abilities ; and it was reported, 
that, upon Dyer's death, Burke secured and sup- 
pressed all the papers which he had left behind him, 

I once dined at Dilly's in company with Wood- 
fall, who then declared in the most positive terms 
that he did not know who Junius was. 

A story appeared in the newspapers that an un- 
known individual had died at Marlborough, and that, 
in consequence of his desire expressed just before 
his death, the wordi Junius had been placed over his 
grave. IlTow, Sir James Mackintosh and I, happen- 
ing to be at Marlborough, resolved to inquire into 
the truth of this story, "We accordingly went into 
the shop of a bookseller, a respectable-looking old 
man with a velvet cap, and asked him what he knew 

* Samuel Dyer. See an account of him in Malone's Life of 
Dryden, p. 181, where he is mentioned as " a man of excellent taste 
and profound erudition ; whose principal literary wor1c, under a Roman 
signature, when the veil with which for near thirty-one years it has 
been enveloped shall be removed, wiU place him in a high rank among 
English writers, and transmit a name, now little known, with dis- 
tinguished lustre to posterity." — Ed. 



272 EECOLLECTIOJSrS OF THE 

about it. "I have Tieard^'' said he, "that a person 
was buried here with that inscriptiou ou his grave ; 
but I have not seen it." He then called out to his 
daughter, "What do you know about it, ISTan? " "1 
have liearcl^'' replied Nan, " that there is such a 
grave ; but I have not seen it." We next applied to 
the sexton ; and his answer was, " I have heard of 
such a grave ; but I have not seen it." ISTor did we 
see it, you may be sure, though we took the trouble 
of going into the churchyard.* 

My own impression is, that the Letters of Junius 
were written by Sir Philip Francis. In a speech, 
which I once heard him deliver, at the Mansion 
House, concerning the Partition of Poland, I had a 
striking proof that Francis possessed no ordinary 
powers of eloquence. 



I was one day conversing with Lady Holland in 

* A friend observed to me, — " Mr. Rogers and Sir James should 
have gone, not to Marlborough, but to Hungerford ; and there they 
would have found a tomb with this inscription, Stai nominis umbra ; 
which is the motto of Junius ; and hence the tomb i^ called Junius^s 
tomb," I mentioned this to Mr. Rogers, who said, " It may be so ; 
but what I told you about our inquiries at Marlborough is fact ; and 
a good stoiy it is. — Ed 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS, 2T3 

her dressing-room, when Sir Phi-ip Francis was 
announced. " E'ow," she said, " I will ask him if 
he is Junius." I was about to withdraw ; but she 
insisted on my staying. Sir Philip entered, and, 
soon after he was seated, she put the question to 
him. His answer was, " Madam, do you mean to 
insult me ? " — and he went on to say, that when he 
was a younger man, people would not have ventured 
to charge him with being the author of those Let- 
ters.* 

When Lady Holland wanted to get rid of a fop, 
she used to say, "I beg your pardon, — but I wish 
you would sit a little further off; there is something 
on your handkerchief which I don't quite like." 

When any gentleman, to her great annoyance, 
was standing with his back close to the chimney- 
piece, she would call out, "Have the goodness, sir, 
to stir the fire ! " 

* The following notice must be referred, I presume, to an 
earlier occasion. " Brougham was by when Francis made the often- 
quoted answer to Rogers — ' There is a question, Sir Philip (said R.), 
which I should much like to ask, if you wiU allow me.' ' You had 
better not, sir (answered Francis) ; you may have reason to be sorry 
for it (or repent of it).' The addition [by the newspapers] to this 
story is, that Rogers, on leaving him, muttered to himself, ' If he is 
Jmiius, it must be Junius Brutus" Moore's Memoirs, &c. vol. vi. 66. 
—Ed. 



274 EECOLLECTIONS OF THK 

Her deliglit was to conquer all difficulties tliat 
itiiglit oppose her will. ISTear Tunbridge there is 
(at least, there was) a house which no stranger was 
allowed to see. Lady Holland never ceased till she 
got permission to inspect it; and through it she 
marched in triumph, taking a train of people with 
her, even her maid. 

When she and Lord Holland were at ISTaples, 
Murat and his Queen used to have certain evenings 
appointed for receiving persons of distinction. 
Lady Holland would not go to those royal parties. 
At last Murat, who was always anxious to conciliate 
the English government, gave a concert expressly 
in honour of Lady Holland ; and she had the grati- 
fication of sitting, at that concert, between Murat 
and the Queen, when, no doubt, she applied to them 
her scrfiw, — that is, she fairly asked them about 
every thing which she wished to know. — By the by, 
Murat and his Queen were extremely civil to me. 
The Queen once talked to me about The Pleasures 
of Memory. I often met Murat when he was on 
horseback, and he would invariably call out to me, 
rising in his stirrups, " H6 bien. Monsieur, etes- 
vous inspire aujourdhui?" 



TABLE-TALK OF SAlSroEL EOGEES. 275 

Lord Holland never ventured to ask any one to 
dinner (not even me, whom lie had known so long 
and so intimately) without previously consulting 
Lady H. Shortly before his death, I called at Hol- 
land House, and found only Lady H. within. As 
I was coming out, I met Lord Holland, who said, 
" Well, do you return to dinner ? " I answered, 
" 'No ; I have not been invited." Perhaps this de- 
ference to Lady H.* was not to be regretted ; for 
Lord Holland was so hospitable and good-natured, 
that, had he been left to himself, he would have had 
a crowd at his table daily. 

What a disgusting thing is the fagging at our 
great schools ! When Lord Holland was a school- 
boy, he was forced, as a fag, to toast bread with his 
fingers for the breakfast of another boy. Lord H.'s 
mother sent him a toasting-fork. His fagger broke 
it over his head, and still compelled him to prepare 
the toast in the old way. In consequence of this 

* Lady Holland was not among Mr. Rogers's earliest acquaint- 
ances in the great world. — Mr. Richard Sharp once said to him, 
" When do you mean to give up the society of Lady Jersey ? " Mr. 
Rogers replied, " When you give up that of Lady Holland," — little 
thinldng then that she was eventually to he one of his own most inti- 
mate friends. — Ed. 



276 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

process liis fingers suifered so much that they always 
retained a withered appearance. 

Lord Holland persisted in saying that pictures 
gave him more pain than pleasure. He also hated 
music ; yet, in some respects, he had a very good. 
ear, for he was a capital mimic. 



What a pity it is that Luttrell gives up nearly 
his whole time to persons of mere fashion ! Every 
thing that he has written is very clever.* Are you 
acquainted with his epigram on Miss Tree (Mrs. 
Bradshaw) ? it is quite a little fairy tale : — 

" On this tree -when a nightingale settles and sings, 
The tree will return her as good as she brings." 

Luttrell is indeed a most pleasant comj)anion. 
None of the talkers whom I meet in London society 
can slide in a brilliant thing with such readiness as 
he does. 



I was one day not a little surprised at being told 
by Moore that in consequence of the article on his 

* See his Letters to Julia and Crockford House. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAl^IUEL EOGEES. 277 

Poems in The Edinburgli Review^^ he had called out 
JeiFrey, who at that time was in London. He asked 
me to lend him a pair of pistols : I said, and truly, 
that I had none.f Moore then went to William 
Spencer to borrow pistols, and to talk to him about 
the duel ; and Spencer, who was delighted with this 
confidence, did not fail to blab the matter to Lord 
Fincastle, :j: and also, I believe, to some women of 
rank. I was at Spencer's house in the forenoon, 
anxious to learn the issue of the duel, when a mes- 
senger arrived with the tidings that Moore and 
Jeffrey were in custody, and with a request from 
Moore that Spencer would bail him. Spencer did 
not seem much inclined to do so, remarking that 
" he could not well go out,, for it was already twelve 
o'clock^ and he had to be dressed l)y four ! " So I 
went to Bow Street and bailed Moore. § The ques- 

* Vol. viii. 456. — Ed. 

■j- " William Spencer being the only one of all my friends whom I 
thought likely to furnish me with these sine-qua-nons [pistols], I 
hastened to confide to him my wants," <fec. Moore's Memoirs, &c. 
vol. i. 202. But Moore's recollection of the particulars connected 
with the duel was somewhat imperfect : see the nest note but one. 
— Ed. 

\ Afterwards Lord Dunmore. — Ed. 

§ " Though I had sent for WiUiam Spencer, I am not quite sure 



278 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

tion now was, whether Moore and Jeffrey should 
fight or not. I secretly consulted General Fitz- 
patrick, w^ho gave it as his decided opinion that 
"■ Mr. Jeffrey was not called upon to accept a second 
challenge," insinuating, of course, that Moore was 
bound to send one. I took care Dot to divulge what 
the General had said : and the poet and critic were 
eventually reconciled by means of Horner and my- 
self: they shook hands with each other in the garden 
behind my house. 

So heartily has Moore repented of having pub- 
lished Littles Poetns, that I have seen him shed 
tears — tears of deejD contrition — when we were 
talking of them. 

Young ladies read his Lalla Boohh without being 
aware (I presume) of the grossness of TJie Veiled 
Prophet. These lines by Mr. Sneyd are amusing 
enough : 

" Lalla Rookh 

Is a naughty book 

By Tommy Moore, 

Who has written four, 

that it was he that acted as my bail, or whether it was not Rogers 
that so officiated. I am, however, certain that the latter joined us at 
the office," &c. Moore's Memoirs, &c. vol. i. 205. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 279 

Each warmer 
Than the formei", 
So the most recent 
Is the least decent." 

Moore borrowed from me Lord Thurlow's Poems, 
and forthwith wrote that ill-natured article on them 
in The Edinburgh Review.^ It made me angry ; for 
Lord Tliurlow, with all his eccentricity, was a man 
of genius : but the public chose to laugh at him, and 
Moore, who always follows the world's opinion, of 
course did so too. I like Lord Thurlow's verses on 
Sidney, f 

* Vol. xxiii. 411. — Ed. 

■|- I know not which of Lord Thurlow's pieces on Sidney (for there 
are several) was alluded to by Mr. Rogers. One of them is, — On 
heholding the poriraiture of Sir Philip Sidney in the gallery at Penshirst; 

" The man that looks, sweet Sidney, in thy face, 
Beholding there love's truest majesty, 
And the soft image of departed grace, 
Shall fiU his mind with magnanimity : 
There may he read unfeign'd humility. 
And golden pity, born of heavenly brood, 
Unsullied thoughts of immortality. 
And musing virtue, prodigal of blood : 
Yes, in this map of what is fair and good, 
This glorious index of a heavenly book, 
Not seldom, as in youthful years he stood, 
Divinest Spenser would admiring look ; 



280 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

Moore once said to me, " I am much foader of 
reading works in prose than in verse." I replied, 
" I should have known so from your writings ; " and 
I meant the words as a compliment — ^his best poems 
are quite original. 

Moore is a very worthy man, but not a little im- 
provident. His excellent wife contrives to maintain 
the whole family on a guinea a-week ; and he, when 
in London, thinks nothing of throwing away that 
sum weekly on hackney-coaches and gloves. I said 
to him, "You must have made ten thousand pounds 
by your musical publications." He replied, " More 
than that." In short, he has received for his various 
works nearly thirty thousand pounds. When, owing 
to the state of his affairs, he found it-necessary to 
retire for a while, I advised him to make Holyrood 
House his refuge : there lie could have lived cheaply 
and comfortably, with permission to walk about un- 
molested every Sunday, when he might have dined 
with Walter Scott or Jeffrey. But he ivould go to 

And, framing thence high wit and pure desire, 
Imagin'd deeds that set the world on fire." — 

Let me add, that Lord Thurlow's sonnet To a bird that haunted the 
waters of Laken in the ivinter was a favourite with Charles Lamb. — 
Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 281 

Paris ; and there lie spent about a thousand a- 
year. 

At the time when Moore was struggling with 
his grief for the loss of his children, he said to me, 
" What a wonderful man that Shakespeare is ! how 
perfectly I now feel the truth of his words, — 

" And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 
'Tis that I may not weep ! " 

I happened to repeat to Mrs. IN^. what Moore had 
said ; ujDon which she observed, " Why, the passage 
is not Shakespeare's, but Byron's." And sure enough 
we found it in Don Juan.^ Another lady, who was 
present, having declared that she did not understand 
it, I said, " I will give you an illustration of it. A 
friend of mine was chiding his daughter. She 
laughed. ' Now,' continued the father, ' you make 

* C. iv. 4. (Moore had forgotten that he had quoted the passage 
as Byron's in his Life of Byron). — Richardson had said the same thin^ 
long ago : — " Indeed, it is to this deep concern that my levity is 
owing : for I struggle and struggle, and try to huffet down my cruel 
reflections as they rise : and when I cannot, / am forced, as I have 
often said, to try to make myself laugh, that I may not cry ; for one or 
other I must do : and is it not philosophy carried to the highest pitch, 
for a man to conquer such tumults of soul as I am sometimes agitated 
by, and, in the very height of the storm, to be able to quaver out an 
borse-laugh ? " Clarissa Harlowe, Letter 84, vol. vii. 319. — Ed. 



282 KECOLLliCTIONS OF Tni-: 

matters worse by langliing.' She then burst into 
tears, exclaiming, ' If I do not langh, I must cry.' " 
Moore has now taken to an amusement which is 
very well suited to the fifth act of life ; — ^lie plays 
cribbage every night with Mrs. Moore. 



In the Memoir of Cary by his son, Coleridge is 
said to have first become acquainted with Gary's 
Dante when he met the translator at Little Hamp- 
ton. But that is a mistake. Moore mentioned the 
work to me with great admiration ; I mentioned it 
to Wordsworth ; * and he to Coleridge, who had 
never heard of it till then, and who forthwith read it. 

I was present at that lecture by Coleridge, dur- 
ing which he spoke of Cary's Dante in high terms 
of praise : there were about a hundred and twenty 
persons in the room. But I doubt if that did much 
towards making it known. It owes some of its ce- 
lebrity to me ; for the article on Dante in The Edin- 
hiirgh JReview,j- which was written by Foscolo, has 
very considerable additions by Mackintosh, and a 

* Wordsworth once remarked to me, " It is a disgrace to the age 
that Car;y has no church-preferment ; I think his translation of Dante 
a great national work." — Ed. 

f Vol. xxix. 453.— Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 283 

few by myself. Gary was aware (though his biog- 
rapher evidently is not) that I had written a por- 
tion of that article ; yet he never mentioned it to 
me : perhaps there was something in it which he 
did not like. 

On the resignation of Baber, chief librarian at 
the British Musenni, I wrote a letter to the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, urging Gary's claim to fill the 
vacant place.* The Archbishop replied, that his 
only reason for not giving Gary his vote was the 
unfortunate circumstance of Gary's having been 
more than once, in consequence of domestic calam- 
ities, afflicted with temporary alienation of mind, f 
I had quite forgotten this ; and I immediately wrote 
again to the Archbishop, saying that I now agreed 
with him concerning Gary's unfitness for the situa- 
tion. I also, as delicately as I could, touched on 
the subject to Gary himself, telling him that the 
place was not suited for him. 

* Gary, as assistant-librarian, stood nest in succession. — Ed. 

f It appears, however, from the Memoir of Cary by his son (vol. 
ii. 285), that afterwards, the Archbishop, in consequence of a medical 
certificate of Gary's fitness for the office, was desirous that he should 
be appointed, " but could not prevail on his co-trustees to concur with 
him." — ^Ed. 



284: EECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

After anotlier gentleman had been ajDpointed 
Baber's successor, the trustees of the Museum re- 
commended Gary to tlie Government for a pension, 
— which they seemed resolved not to grant ; and I 
made more than one earnest application to them 
in his behalf. At last Lord Melbourne sent Lord 
E. to me with a message tliat " there was very little 
money to dispose of, but that Gary should have 1001. 
per annum." I replied that " it was so small a sum, 
that I did not choose to mention the offer to Gary ; 
and that, as soon as Sir Robert Peel came into 
office, I should apply to him for a larger sum, with 
confident hopes of better success." Lord Mel- 
bourne then let me know that Gary should have 
2001. a-year ; which I accepted for him. 

Gary never forgave me for my conduct in the 
Museum business ; and never afterwards called upon 
me. But I met him one day in the Park, when he 
said (much to his credit, considering his decided 
political opinions) that " he was better pleased to 
receive 200?. a-year from Lord Melbourne than 
double the sum from Sir Robert Peel." 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 285 

Visiting Ladj one day, I made inquiries 

about her sister. " She is now staying with me," 
answered Lady , " but she is unwell in conse- 
quence of a fright which she got on her way from 
Kichmond to London." At that time omnibuses 
were great rarities ; and while Miss was com- 
ing to town, the footman, observing an omnibus 
approach, and thinking that she might like to see it, 
suddenly called in at the carriage-window, " Ma'am, 

the omnibus ! " Miss , being unacquainted with 

the term, and not sure but an omnibus might be a 
wild beast escaped from the Zoological Gardens, 
was thrown into a dreadful state of agitation by the 
announcement. 



I think Sheridan Knowles by far the best writer 
of plays since those whom we call our old dramatists. 
— Macready's performance of Tell (in Knowles's 
William Tell) is first-rate. 'No actor ever affected 
me more than Macready did in some scenes of that 
play. 



Words cannot do justice to Theodore Hook's 
talent for improvisation : it was perfectly wonderful. 



286 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

He was one day sitting at the pianoforte, singing an 
extempore song as fluently as if lie had had the 
words and music before him, when Moore happened 
to look into the room, and Hook instantly intro- 
duced a long parenthesis, 

" And here's Mr. Moore, 
Peeping in at the door, &c." — 

The last time I saw Hook was in the lobby of Lord 
Canterbury's house after a large evening party there. 
He was walking up and down, singing with great 
gravity, to the astonishment of the footmen, " Shep- 
herds, I have lost my TiatP 



When Ei'skine was made Lord Chancellor, Lady 
Holland never rested till she j)revailed on him to 
give Sidney Smith a living.* Smith went to thank 
him for the appointment. "Oh," said Erskine, 
" don't thank nie^ Mr. Smith, I gave you the living 
because Lady Holland insisted on my doing so : 
and if she had desired me to give it to the devil, he 
must have had it." 

* The living of Foston-le-Clay in Yorkshire. — Ed. 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 287 

At one time, when I gave a dinner, I used to 
have candles placed all round the dining-room, and 
high up, in order to show off the pictures. I asked 
Smith how he liked that plan. " 'Not at all," he 
replied; "above, there is a blaze of light, and below, 
nothing but darkness and gnashing of teeth." 

He said that was so fond of contradiction, 

that he would throw up the window in the middle 
of the night, and contradict the watchman who was 
calling the hour. 

When his physician advised him to " take a walk 
upon an empty stomach," Smith asked, " Upon 
whose ? " 

" Lady Cork," said Smith, " was once so moved 
by a charity sermon, that she begged me to lend her 
a guinea for her contribution. I did so. She never 
repaid me, and spent it on herself." 

He said that " Ms idea of heaven was eating fois 
gras to the sound of trumpets."* 

" I had a very odd di-eam last night," said he ; 
" I dreamed that there were thirty- nine Muses and 

* It must not be supposed from this and other such-like quaint 
fancies, in which he occasionally indulged, that Smith's wit had any 
mixtiire of profaneness : — ^he certainly never intended to treat sacred 
things with levity. — Ed. 



288 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE 

nine Articles : and my head is still quite confused 
about them." 

Smith said, " The Bishop of is so like 

Judas, that I now firmly believe in the Apostolical 
Succession." 

Witty as Smith was, I have seen him at my 
own house absolutely overpowered by the superior 
facetiousness of William Bankes. 



Speaking to me of Buonaparte, the Duke of 
Wellington remarked, that in one respect he was 
superior to all the generals who had ever existed. 
"Was it," I asked, "in the management and skilful 
arrangement of his troops ?" " ISTo," answered the 
Duke ; " it was in his power of concentrating such 
vast masses of men — a most important point in the 
art of war." 

" I have found," said the Duke, " that raw troops, 
however inferior to the old ones in manoeuvring, are 
far superior to them in downright hard fighting with 
the enemy : at Waterloo, the young ensigns and 
lieutenants, who had never before seen a l)attle, 
rushed to meet death as if they had been playing at 
cricket," 



TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEE3. 289 

The Duke thinks very highly of Napier's History : 
its only fault, he says, is — that Napier is sometimes 
apt to convince himself that a thing must be true, 
because he wislies to believe it. Of Southey's History 
he merely said, "I don't think much of «^." 

Of the Duke's perfect coolness oli the most try- 
ing occasions. Colonel Gurwood gave me this in 
stance. He was once in great danger of being 
drowned at sea. It was bed-time, when the captain 
of the vessel came to him, and said, " It will soon 
be all over with us." " Yery well," answered the 
Duke, " then I shall not take off my boot^" 

Some years ago, walking with the Duke in Hyde 
Park, I observed, " "What a powerful band Lord 
John Russell will have to contend with ! there's Peel, 
Lord Stanley, Sir James Graham," &c. The Duke 
interrupted me by saying, " Lord John Russell is a 
host in himself." — It is mainly to the noble consist- 
ency of his whole career that Lord John owes the 
high place which he holds in the estimation of the 
people. 

The Duke says that the Lord's Prayer alone is 
an evidence of the truth of Christianity — so admir- 
ably is that prayer accommodated to all our wants. 
13 



290 TABJLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGEKS. 

I took the Sacrament witli the Duke at Strathfield- 
saye ; and nothing could be more striking than his 
unaffected devotion. 



When I was at Paris, I went to Alexis, and de- 
sired him to describe to me mj house in St. James's 
Place. On my word, he astonished me ! He de- 
scribed most exactly the peculiarities of the stair- 
case — said that not far from the window in the 
drawing-room there was a picture of a man in 
armour (\h.e painting by Giorgone), &c. &c. 

Colonel Gurwood, shortly before his death, as- 
sured me that he was reminded by Alexis of some 
circumstances which had happened to him in Spain, 
and which he could not conceive how any human 
being, except himself, should know. 

Still, I cannot believe in clairvoyance — hecause 
the thing is iinpossible. 



PORSOKIAI^A. 



The following anecdotes of Porson* were communicated 
to me, in conversation, at various times, by the late Mr. 
William Maltby, — the schoolfellow, and, throughout life, 
the most confidential friend of Mr. Rogers. 

In his youth Mr. Maltby was entered at Cambridge, 
and resided there for some time : he, however, left the 
xmiversity without taking a degree. He afterwards prac- 
tised as a solicitor in London. On the decease of Porson, 
he obtained an employment more suited to his tastes and 
habits than the profession of the law : — in 1809 he suc- 
ceeded that celebrated man as Principal Librarian to the 
London Institution ; and, during the long period of his 
holding the office, he greatly improved the library by the 
numerous judicious purchases which were made at his 

* Notices of Porson have already occurred in this volume : see pp. 
79, 134, 217, 218, 219.— Ed. 



294 

suggestion. In 1834 he was superannuated from all 
duty : but he still continued to occupy apartments in the 
Institution ; and there he died, towards the close of his 
ninetieth year, January 5th, 1854. 

In Greek and Latin Mr. Maltby was what is called a 
fair scholar : he was well read in Italian ; his acquaintance 
with French and English literature was most extensive and 
accurate; in a knowledge of bibliography he has been 
surpassed by few : and the wonder was (as Mr. Rogers 
used frequently to observe) that, with all his devotion to 
study, and with all his admiration of the makers of books, 
he should never have come before the public in the char- 
acter of an author. 

EDITOR. 



PORSONIANA. 



I FiKST saw Person at the sale of Toup's library in 
1784, and was introduced to liim soon after. I was 
on tlie most intimate terms with him for the last 
twenty years of his life. In spite of all his faults 
and failings, it was impossible not to admire his in- 
tegrity and his love of truth. 

Porson declared that he learned nothing while 
a schoolboy at Eton. " Before I went there," he 
said, " I could nearly repeat by heart all the books 
which we used to read in the schools." The only 
thing in his Eton course which he recollected with 
pleasure was — rat-hunting ! he used to talk with 
delight of the rat-hunts in the Long Hall. 



296 POKSONIAJSTA. 

During the earlier part of his career, he accepted 
the situation of tutor to a young gentleman in the 
Isle of Wight ; but he was soon forced to relinquish 
that office, in consequence of having been found 
drunk in a ditch or a turnip-field. 

The two persons to whom Porson had the great- 
est obligations were Sir George Baker, and Dr. Ship- 
ley, Bishop of St. Asaph. Sir George once ventured 
to chide him for his irregularities — a liberty which 
Porson resented, and never forgave,* though he owed 
Sir George so much. 

Porter was his favourite beverage at breakfast. 
One Sunday morning meeting Dr. Goodall (Provost 
of Eton), he said, "Where are you going?" " To 
church." "Where is Mrs. Goodall ?" "At break- 
fast." " Yery well ; I'll go and breakfast with her." 
Porson accordingly presented himself before Mrs. 
Goodall ; and being asked what he chose to take, he 
said "porter." It was sent for, pot after pot ; and 
the sixth pot was just being carried into the house 
when Dr. Goodall returned from church. 

• This seems to account for the statement in Beloe's Sexagenarian 
(i. 234), viz. that Porson " all at once ceased to go to Sir George 
Baker's house, and from what motive Sir George always avowed him- 
8«lf ignorant." — Ed. 



POKSONIANA. 297 

At one period of his life he was in such strait- 
ened circumstances, that he would go without dinner 
for a couple of days. However, when a dinner came 
in his way, he would eat very heartily (mutton 
was his favourite dish), and lay in, as he used to 
say, a stock of provisions. He has subsisted for three 
weeks upon a guinea. 

Sometimes, at a later period, when he was able 
enough to pay for a dinner, he chose, in a lit of ab- 
stinence, to go without one. I have asked him to 
stay and dine with me ; and he has replied, " Thank 
you, no ; I dined yesterday." 

At dinner, and after it, he preferred port to any 
other wine. He disliked both tea and coffee. 

Porson would sit up drinking all night, without 
seeming to feel any bad effects from it. Home 
Tooke told me that he once asked Porson to dine 
with him in Richmond Buildings ; and, as he knew 
that Porson had not been in bed for the three pre- 
ceding nights, he expected to get rid of him at a 
tolerably early hour. Porson, however, kept Tooke 
up the whole night : and in the morning, the latter, 
in perfect despair, said, " Mr. Porson, I am engaged 
to meet a friend at breakfast at a coffee-house in 



298 POKSONIANA. 

Leicester Square." " Oh," replied Porson, " I will 
go with you ; " and he accordingly did so. Soon 
after they had reached the coftee-house, Tooke con- 
trived to slip out, and running home, ordered his 
servant not to let Mr. Porson in, even if he should 
attempt to batter down the door. " A man," ob- 
served Tooke, "who could sit up four nights succes- 
sively might have sat up forty." * 

Tooke used to say that "Porson would drink ink 
rather than not drink at all." Indeed, he would 
drink any thing. He was sitting with a gentleman, 
after dinner, in the chambers of a mutual friend, a 
Templar, who w^as then ill and confined to bed. A 
servant came into the room, sent thither by his mas- 
ter for a bottle of embrocation which was on the 
chimney-piece. "I drank it an hour ago," said 
Porson. 

When Hoppner the painter was residing in a 

* In Stephens's Memoirs of Home Tooke, vol. ii. 315, is an account 
of Person's rudeness to Tooke while dining with him one day at Wim- 
bledon, and of Tooke's silencing and triumphing over him by making 
him dead drunk with brandy ; on which occasion " some expressions 
of a disagreeable nature are said to have occurred at table." — At that 
dinner Tooke (as he told Mr. Maltby) asked Porson for a toast ; and 
Porson replied, " I will give you — the man who is in aU respects the 
very reverse of John Home Tooke." — Ed. 



PORSONIAifA. 299 

cottage a few miles from London, Forson, one af- 
ternoon, unexpectedly arrived there. Hoppner said 
that he conld not offer him dinner, as Mrs. II. had 
gone to town, and had carried with her the key of 
the closet which contained the wine. Porson, how- 
ever, declared that he wonld be content with a 
mntton-chop, and beer from the next alehouse ; and 
accordingly staid to dine. During the evening Por- 
son said, " I am quite certain that Mrs. Hoppner 
keeps some nice bottle, for her private drinking, in 
her own bedroom ; so pray, try if you can lay your 
hands on it." His host assured him that Mrs. H. 
.had no such secret stores ; but Porson insisting that 
a search should be made, a bottle was at last dis- 
covered in the lady's apartment, to the surprise of 
Hoppner, and the joy of Porson, who soon finished 
its contents, pronouncing it to be the best gin he 
had tasted for a long time. Next day. Hoppner, 
somewhat out of temper, informed his wife that 
Porson had drunk every drop of her concealed dram. 
" Drunk every drop of it! " cried she, " my God, it 
was spirits of wine for the lamp ! " 

A brother of Bishop Maltby invited Porson and 
myself to spend the evening at his house, and se- 



300 POESONIANA. 

cretly requested me to take Porson away, if pos- 
sible, before the morning hours. Accordingly, at 
twelve o'clock I held up my watch to Porson, saying, 
" I think it is now full time for us to go home ; " 
and the host, of course, not pressing us to remain 
longer, away we went. When we got into the street, 
Porson's indignation burst forth ; "I hate," he said, 
" to be turned out of doors like a dog." 

At the house of the same gentleman I introduced 
Cogan to Porson, saying, " This is Mr. Cogan,* who 
is passionately fond of what you have devoted your- 
self to, — Greek." Porson replied, " If Mr. Cogan 
is passionately fond of Greek, he must be content < 
to dine on bread and cheese for the remainder of 
his life." 

Gurney (the Baron) had chambers in Essex 
Court, Temple, under Porson's. One night (or 
rather, morning) Gm-ney was awakened by a tre- 
mendous thump in the chambers above. Porson 
had just come home dead drunk, and had fallen on 
the floor. Having extinguished his candle in the 

* Not the Bath physician and author Thomas Cogan, — hut EUezer 
Cogan, a dissenting clergyman who kept a school at Walthamstow, 
and published Moschi Idyllia tria with Latin notes, some Sermons, &c. 
—Ed. 



PORSONIANA. 301 

fall, he presently staggered down stairs to religlit 
it ; and Griirney heard him keep dodging and poking 
with the candle at the stair-case lamp for about five 
minutes, and all the while very lustily cursing the 
nature of things. 

Porson was fond of smoking, and said that when 
jmoking began to go out of fashion, learning began 
to go out of fashion also. 

He was generally ill-dressed and dirty. But I 
never saw him such a figure as he was one day at 
Leigh and Sotheby's auction-room ; he evidently 
had been rolling in the kennel ; and, on inquiry, I 
found that he was just come from a party (at Rob- 
ert Heathcote's, I believe), with whom he had been 
sitting up drinking for two nights. 

One forenoon I met Porson in Covent Garden, 
dressed in a pea-green coat: he had been married^ 
that moigiing, as I afterwards learned from Paine, 
for he himself said nothing about it. He was car- 
rying a copy of Le Moyen de Pcurvenir^ which he 
had just purchased off a stall; and holding it up, 

* " In 1795, R. P. married Mrs. Lunan, who sunk under a decline 
ill 1797." Kidd's Life of Porson, p. xv. Slie was sister to Perry, editor 
of The Morning Chronicle. — Ed. 



302 POKSONIANA. 

he called out jokingly, "These are the sort of books 
to buy ! '" 

" I was occupied two years," said Porson, " in 
composing the Letters to Trams: I received thirty 
pounds for them from Egerton ; and I am glad to 
find that he lost sixteen by the publication." He 
once talked of writing an Appendix to that work. — 
In his later years he used to regret that he had de- 
voted so much time to the study of theology. 

Soon after the Letters to Travis were published, 
Gibbon wrote a note to Porson, requesting the plea- 
sure of his acquaintance. Porson accordingly called 
upon the great historian, who received him with all 
kindness and respect. In the course of conversation 
Gibbon said, " Mr. Porson, I feel truly indebted to 
you for the Letters to Travis, though I must think 
that occasionally, while praising me, you have min- 
gled a little acid with the sweet. If ever yoti should 
take the trouble to read my History over again, I 
should be much obliged and honoured by any re- 
marks on it which might suggest themselves to you. ' 
Porson was highly flattered by Gibbon's having re- 
quested this interview, and loved to talk of it. He 
thought the Decline and Fall beyond all compari- 



POKSONIANA. 303 

son the greatest literary production of the eighteenth 
century, and was in the habit of repeating long pas- 
sages from it. Yet I have heard him say that 
" there could not be a better exercise for a school- 
boy than to turn a j)age of it into English^ 

When the Letters to Travis first appeared, Ren- 
nell said to me, " It is just such a book as the devil 
would write, if he could hold a pen." 

As soon as Gibbon's Autobiography and Miscel- 
laneous Works came out, they were eagerly de- 
voured both by Porson and myself. Neither of us 
could afford to purchase the quarto edition ; so we 
bought the Dublin reprint in octavo. 

There was no cordiality between Porson and' 
Jacob Bryant, for they thought very differently not 
only on the subject of Troy, but on most other sub- 
jects. Bryant used to abuse Porson behind his 
back ; and one day, whea he was violently attacking 
his character, the Bishop of Salisbury, Dr. Douglas, 
said to him, " Mr. Bryant, you are speaking of a 
great man; and you should remember, sir, that 
even the greatest men are not without their fail- 
ings." Cleaver Banks, who was present on that 
occasion, remarked to me, " I shall always think 



304 POKSONIANA. 

well of the Bishop for his generous defence of oin' 
friend." 

Porson was sometimes very rude in society. 
My relation, Dr. Maltby (Bishop of Durham), once 
invited him to meet Paley at dinner. Paley arrived 
first. When Porson (who had never before seen hmi) 
came into the room, he seated himself in an arm- 
chair, and looking very hard at Paley, said, "I am 
entitled to this chair, being president of a society for 
the discovery of truth, of which I happen at j)resent to 
be the only member." These words were levelled at 
Q&YidiVa. political opinions broached in Paley's works. 

I have often wondered that Porson did not get 
into scrapes in those days, when it was so dangerous 
to express violent political feelings : he would think 
nothing of toasting "Jack Cade" at a tavern, when 
he was half-seas-over. 

One day after dinner, at Clayton Jennings's 
house, Captain Ash, who was always ready to warble, 
burst out, as usual, with a song. I^ow, Porson hated 
singing after dinner ; and, while Ash was in the 
middle of his song, an ass happening to bray in the 
street, Porson interrupted the Captain with, " Sir, 
you have a rival." 



POESONIANA. 305 

He used frequently to regret that he had not 
gone to America in his youth and settled there. I 
said, "What would you have done without books? " 
He answered, " I should have done without them." 

At one time he had some thoughts of taking 
orders, and studied divinity for a year or two. " But," 
said he, " I found that I should require ohout fifty 
years' reading to make myself thoroughly acquainted 
with it — to satisfy my mind on all points, and there- 
fore I gave it up. There are fellows who go into a 
pulpit, assuming every thing, and knowing nothing : 
but i" would not do so." 

He said that every man ought to marry once. I 
observed that every man could not afford to maintain 
a family. " Oh," replied he, " pap is cheap." 

He insisted that all men are born with abilities 
nearly equal. " Any one," he would say, " might 
become quite as good a critic as I am, if he would 
only take the trouble to make himself so. I have 
made myself what I am by intense labour : some- 
times, in order to impress a thing upon my memory, 
I have read it a dozen times, and transcribed it 
six."* 

* But hi was certainly gifted by nature with most extraordinary 



306 POESONIANA. 

He once had occasion to travel to Norwich. 
"When the coach arrived, there, he was beset by se- 
veral porters, one offering to carry his portmanteau 
to his lodging for eighteen-pence, another for a 
shilling, another for ninepence : upon which, Porson 
shouldered the portmanteau, and marching off with 
it, said very gravely to the porters, " Gentlemen, I 
leave you to settle this dispute among yourselves." 
When, however, he went to stay with a friend for 
only a couple of days or so, he did not encumber 
himself with a portmanteau : he would merely take 
a shirt in his pocket, saying, " Omnia raea Tnecum 
jporto.^'' 

The time he wasted in writing notes on the mar- 
gins of books — I mean, in writing them with such 
beauty of penmanship that they rivalled print — was 
truly lamentable.* And yet he used those very 

powers of memory. Dr. Downie, of Aberdeen, told me that, during 
a visit to London, he heard Porson declare tliat he could repeat Smol- 
lett's Roderick Random from beginning to end : — and Mr. Richard He- 
ber assured me that soon after the appearance of the Essay on Irish 
Bulls (the joint production of Edgeworth and his daughter), Porson 
used, when somewhat tipsy, to recite ivhole pages of it verbatim with 
great delight. — Ed. 

* Such was Ms rage for calhgraphy, that he once offerred to letter 
the hacJcs of some of Mr. Richard Heber's vellum-bound classics. " No," 



POKSONIANA. ■ 307 

books most cruelly, whether they were his own, or 
belonging to others : he would let them lie about 
his room, coYerecl with dust and all sorts of dirt. 
He said that "he possessed more had copies oi good 
books than any private gentleman in England." 

"When he lived in Essex Court, Temple, he would 
shut himself up for three or four days together, ad 
mitting no visitors to his chambers. One morning 
I went to call upon him there ; and having inquired 
at his barber's close by " if Mr. Porson was at 
home," was answered " Yes, but he has seen no one 
for two days." I, however, proceeded to his cham 
bers, and knocked at the door more than once. He 
would not open it, and I came down stairs. As I 
was recrossing the court, Porson, who had perceived 
that /was the visitor, opened the window, and stopped 
me. He was then busy about the G-renville Homer, 
for which he collated the Harleian Ms. of the Odys- 
sey. His labours on that work were rewarded with 

said Heber, " I won't let you do that : but I shall be most thankful 
if you will write into an Athenseus some of those excellent emenda- 
tions which I have heard from you in conversation." Heber accord- 
ingly sent to him Brunck's interleaved copy of that author (Casaubou's 
edition) ; which Porson enriched with many notes. These notes were 
afterwards published in his Adversaria. The Athenseus is now in my 
possession. — Ed. 



308 PORSONIANA. 

50?. and a large-paper copy. I thouglit the payment 
too small, but Burney considered it as sufficient. 

I told him one day that the examiners for the 
Cambridge University scholarship had just beea 
greatly puzzled to find out which of the candidates 
was the best scholar. " Indeed ! " said Porson : " 1 
wish I had been there ; I would have put a ques- 
tion or two which would have quickly settled the 
point." 

Postlethwaite * having come to London to attend 
the Westminster Examination, Porson called upon 
him, when the following dialogue (which 1 wrote 
down from Porson's dictation) took place between 
them. Porson. " I am come, sir, to inform you that 
my fellowship will become vacant in a few weeks, in 
order that you may appoint my successor." Postle. 
" But, Mr. Porson, you do not mean to leave us ? " 
Porson. " It is not I who leave you, but you who 
dismiss me. You have done me every injury in your 
power. But I am not come to complain or expos- 
tulate." Postle. " I did not know, Mr. Porson, you 
were so resolved." Porson. " You could not con- 
ceive, sir, that I should have applied for alay-fellow- 

* Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. — Ed. 



PORSONIANA. 309 

ship to the detriment of some more scrupulous man, 
if it had been my intention to take orders." 

In 1Y92, Postlethwaite wrote a letter to Porson 
informing him that the Greek Professorship at Cam- 
bridge had fallen vacant. Here is an exact copy of 
Person's answer : * 

" Sir, — ^When I first received the favour of your 
letter, I must own that I felt rather vexation and 
chagrin than hope and satisfaction. I had looked 
upon myself so completely in the light of an outcast 
from Alma Mater, that I had made up my mind to 
have no farther connexion with the place. The 
prospect you held out to me gave me more uneasi- 
ness than pleasure. When I was younger than I now 
am, and my disposition more sanguine than it is at 
present, I was in daily expectation of Mr. Cooke's 
resignation, and I flattered myself with the hope of 
succeeding to the honour he was going to quit. As 
hope and ambition are great castle-builders, I had 
laid a scheme, partly, as I was willing to think, for 
the joint credit, partly for the mutual advantage, of 

* This letter has been already printed ; but in publications that 
aro very little known. — Ed. 



310 POESONIANA. 

myself and the University. I had projected a plan 
of reading lectures, and I persuaded myself that I 
should easily obtain a grace permitting me to exact 
a certain sum from every person who attended. But 
seven years' waiting will tire out the most patient 
temper ; and all my ambition of this sort was long 
ago laid asleep. The sudden news of the vacant 
professorship put me in mind of poor Jacob, who, 
having served seven years in hopes of being rewarded 
with Rachel, awoke, and behold it was Leah ! 

" Such, sir, I confess, were the first ideas that 
took possession of my mind. But after a little re- 
flection, I resolved to refer a matter of this impor- 
tance to my Mends. This circumstance has caused 
the delay, for which I ought before now to have 
apologised. My friends unanimously exhorted me to 
embrace the good fortune which they conceived to be 
within my grasp. Their advice, therefore, joined to 
the expectation I had entertained of doing some small 
good by my exertions in the employment, together 
with the pardonable vanity which the honour an- 
nexed to the office inspired, determined me : and 1 
was on the point of troubling you, sir, and the other 
electors with notice of my intentions to profess my- 



POESONIANA. 311 

self a candidate, when an objection, wliicli had 
escaped me in the huriy of my thoughts, now oc- 
curred to my recollection. 

" The same reason which hindered me from keep- 
ing my fellowship by the method you obligingly 
pointed out to me, would, I am greatly afraid, pre- 
vent me from being Greek Professor. Whatever 
concern this may give me for myself, it gives me 
none for the public. I trust there are at least twen- 
ty or thirty in the University equally able and wil- 
ling to undertake the office ; possessed, many^ of 
talents superior to mine, and all of a more comply- 
ing conscience. This I speak upon the supposition 
that the next Greek Professor will be compelled to 
read lectures : but if the place remains a sinecure, 
the number of qualified persons will be greatly in- 
creased. And though it were even granted, that 
my industry and attention might possibly produce 
some benefit to the interests of learning and the 
credit of the University, that trifling gain would be 
as much exceeded by keeping the Professorship a 
sinecure, and bestowing it on a sound believer, as 
temporal considerations are outweighed by spiritual. 
Having only a strong persuasion, not an absolute 



312 PORSONIANA. 

certainty, that sucli a subscription is required of tlie 
Professor elect, — ^if I am mistaken, I hereby offer 
myself as a candidate ; but if I am right in my opin- 
ion, I shall beg of you to order my name to be 
erased from the boards, and I shall esteem it a fa- 
vour conferred on, sir, 

" Your obliged humble servant, 

" R. POESON. 
" Essex Court, Temple, 6th October, 1792," 

When he was first elected Greek Professor,* he 
assured me that he intended to give public lectm'es 
in that capacity. I afterwards asked him why he 
had not given them. He replied, " Because I have 
thought better on it : whatever originality my lec- 
tures might have had, people would have cried out, 
We kneio all this hefore.^' 

I was with him one day when he bought Dra- 
kenborch's Livy ; and I said, " Do you mean to 
read through all the notes in these seven quarto 
volumes?" "I buy it at least," he answered, "in 

* In 1793, by an unanimous vote of the seven electors. — Accord- 
ing to the printed accounts of Porson, he was prevented from giving 
lectures by the want of rooms for that purpose. — Ed. 



PORSONIANA. 313 

the hope of doing so some time or other : there is 
no doubt a deal of valuable information to be found 
in the notes ; and I shall endeavour to collect that 
information. Indeed, I should like to j)ublish a 
volume of the curious things which I have gathered 
in the course of my studies ; but people would only- 
say of it, We knew all this before." 

Porson had no very high opinion of Parr, and 
could not endure his metaphysics. One evening. 
Parr was beginning a regular harangue on the ori- 
gin of evil, when Porson stopped him short by ask- 
ing " what was the use of it ? " — Porson, who shrunk 
on all occasions from praise of himself, was only 
annoyed by the eulogies which Parr lavished upon 
him in print. "When Parr published the Bema/fhs 
on Combers Statement, in which Porson is termed 
" a giant in literature," * &c., Porson said, " How 
should Dr. Parr be able to take the measure of a 
giant ? " 

* " But Mr. Porson, the re-publisher of Heyne's Virgil, is a giant 
in literature, a prodigy in intellect, a critic, whose mighty achieve- 
ments leave imitation panting at a distance behind them, and whose 
stupendous powers strike down all the restless and aspiring suggestions 
of rivalry into silent admiration and passive awe." p. 13. This tract 
is not reprinted entire in the ed. of Parr's Worlcs. — Ed. 
14 



314 POESONIANA. 

Parr was evidently afraid of Porson, — of his in- 
tellectual powers. I miglit say too that Home 
Tooke had a dread of Porson ; but it was only the 
dread of being insulted by some rude speech from 
Porson in his drunkenness. Porson thought highly 
both of Tooke's natural endowments and of his ac- 
quirements. " I have learned many valuable things 
from Tooke," was what he frequently said ; " yet I 
don't always believe Tooke's assertions," was some- 
times his remark. — (I knew Parr intimately. I once 
dined at Dilly's with Parr, Priestley, . Cumberland, 
and some other distinguished people. Cumberland, 
who belonged to the family of the Blandishes, be- 
praised Priestley to his face, and after he had left 
the party, spoke of him very disparagingly. Tliis 
excited Parr's extremest wrath. "When I met him 
a few days after, he said, " Only think of Mr. Cum- 
berland ! that he should have presumed to talk 'be- 
fore me, — before me, sir, — ^in such terms oimy friend 
Dr. Priestley ! Pray, sir, let Mr. Dilly know my 
opinion of Mr. Cumberland, — that his ignorance is 
equalled only by his impertinence, and that both 
are exceeded by his malice."' — Parr hated Dr. Hors 
ley to such a degree that he never mentioned him 



POr.SLNIANA, 315 

by any other name than the fiend. — ^Parr once said 
to Barker, " You have read a great deal, you have 
thought very little, and you know nothing.") 

One day Porson went down to Greenwich to bor 
row a book from Burney ; arid finding that Burney 
M'as out, he stepped into his library, pocketed the 
volume, and set off" again for London. Soon after, 
Burney came home ; and, offended at the liberty 
Porson had taken, pursued him in a chaise, and re- 
covered the book. Porson talked to me of this af- 
fair with some bitterness : " Did Burney suppose," 
he said, " that I meant to play ids old tricks?" (al- 
luding to a well-known circumstance in the earlier 
part of Burney's history). 

I believe, with you, that Burney was indebted 
to Porson for many of those remarks on various 
niceties of Greek which he has given as his own in 
difi*erent publications. Porson once said to me, 
" A certain gentleman " (evidently meaning Burney) 
" has just been with me ; and he brought me a long 
sti'ing of questions, every one of which I answered 
ofi-hand. Really, before people become schoolmas- 
ters, they ought to get up their Greek thoroughly, 
for they never learn any thing more of it after- 



316 PORSONIANA. 

wards." — I one day asked Burney for his opinion of 
Porson as a scliolar. Burney replied, " I think my 
friend Dick's acquaintance with the Greek drama- 
tists quite marvellous ; but he was just as well ac- 
quainted with them at'the age of thirty as he is now : 
he has not improved in Greek since he added bran- 
dy-and-water to his potations, and took to novel- 
reading." Porson would sometimes read nothing 
but novels for a fortnight together. 

Porson felt much respect for Gilbert Wakefield's 
integrity, but very little for his learning. When 
Wakefield put forth the Diatribe Exterwporalis * on 
Porson's edition of the Heciiba, Porson said, " K 
Wakefield goes on at this rate, he will tempt me to 
examine his Silva Critica. I hope that we shall not 
meet ; for a violent quarrel would be the conse- 
quence." — (Wakefield was a very agreeable and en- 
tertaining comjDanion. " My Lucretius,^'' he once 

* Ou the publication of Porson's Hecuba, Wakefield, in great agi- 
tation, asked Mr. Evans (tlie now retired bookseller) who was 
its editor? "Can you have any doubts?" replied Evans; "Mr. 
Porson, of course." — " But," said Wakefield, " I want proof, — positive 
proof." " Well, then," replied Evans, " I saw Mr. Porson present a 
large-paper copy to Mr. Cracherode, and heard him acknowledge him- 
self the editor." Wakefield immediately went home, and composed 
tlie Dtntribe. — Ei>. 



POBSONIANA. 317 

eaid to me, " is my most perfect publication, — it is, 
in fact, Lucretius Restitutus.^''* He was a great 
walker ; he has walked as much as forty miles in 
one day ; and I believe that his death was partly 
l3rought on by excessive walking, after his long 
confinement in Dorchester gaol. What offended 
Wakefield at Porson was, that Porson had made no 
mention of him in his notes. I^ow, Porson told 
Burney expressly, that out of pure kindness he had 
forborne to mention Wakefield ; for he could not 
have cited any of his emendations without the 
severest censure.) 

Dr. Eaine, Dr. Davy, Cleaver Banks, and per- 
haps I may add myself, were the persons with whom 
Porson maintained the greatest intimacy. 

Banks once invited Porson (about a year before 
his death) to dine with him at an hotel at the west 
end of London; but the dinner passed away with- 
out the expected guest having made his appearance. 
Afterwards, on Bank's asking him why he had not 
kept his engagement, Porson replied (without enter- 
ing into further particulars) that "he hud come!" 

* He sadly deceived himself : see the judgment passed on it by 
Lachmann in his recent admirable edition of Lucretius. — Ed. 



318 POESONTANA, 

and Banks oould only conjecture, that the waiters, 
seeing Porson's shabby dress, and not knowing who 
he was, had offered him some insult, which had 
made him indignantly return home. 

"I hear," said I to Porscn, " that you are to dine 
to-day at Holland House." " "Who told you so ? " 
asked he. — I replied, " Mackintosh." " But I cer- 
tainly shall not go," continued Porson: "they in- 
vite me merely out of curiosity ; and, after they have 
satisfied it, they would like to kick me down stairs." 
I then informed him that Fox was coming from St. 
Anne's Hill to Holland House for the express pur- 
pose of being introduced to him : but he persisted in 
his resolution ; and dined quietly with Rogers and 
myself at Rogers's chambers in the Temple. Many 
years afterwards, Lord Holland mentioned to Rogers 
that his uncle (Fox) had been greatly disappointed 
at not meeting Porson on that occasion. 

Porson disliked Mackintosh ; they differed in 
politics, and their reading had little in common. 

One day Porson took up in my room a nicely 
bound copy of the Polycraticon (by John of Salis- 
bury), and having dipped into it, said, " I must read 
this through ; " so he carried it off'. About a month 



POKSONIANA. 319 

had elapsed, when calling at his chambers, I hap- 
pened to see my beautiful book lying on the floor 
and covered with dust. This vexed me ; and I men- 
tioned the circumstance to Mr. Maltby (an elder 
brother of the Bishop of Durham), who repeated to 
Porson what I had said. A day or two after, I dined 
with Porson at Pogers's : he swallowed a good deal 
of wine ; and then began in a loud voice an indirect 
attack on me, — "There are certain people who com- 
plain that I use their books roughly," &c. &c. I was 
quite silent ; and when he found that I would not 
take any notice of his tirade, he di'opped the subject. 

When Porson was told that Pretyman * had been 
left a large estate by a person who had seen him 
only once, he said, " It would not have happened, 
if the person had seen him twice." 

Meeting me one day at a booksale, Porson said, 
" Tliat * " * the Bishop of Lincoln (Tomline) 
has just passed me in the street, and he shrunk from 
my eye like a wild animal. What do you think he 
has had the impudence tc assert? N^ot long ago, he 

* Then Bisliop of Lincoln. A valuable estate was bequeathed 
to him by Marmaduke Tomline (a gentleman with whom he had no 
relationship or connection), on condition of his taking the name of 
Tomline. — Ed. 



320 POESONIAKA, 

came to me, and, after informing me that Lord Elgin 
was appointed ambassador to the Porte, he asked 
me if I knew any one who was competent to exam- 
ine the Greek mannscrijDts at Constantinople : I re- 
plied that I did not: and he now tells everybody 
that I refused the proposal of government that I 
should go there to examine those TThanuscripts ! " — 
I do not believe that Porson would have gone to 
Constantinople, if he had had the offer. He hated 
moving ; and would not even accompany me to Pa- 
ris. When I was going thither, he charged me with 
a message to Villoison. 

When Porson first met Perry after the fire in the 
house of the latter at Merton, he immediately in- 
quired " if any lives had been lost? " Perry replied 
"No." "Well," said Porson, "then I shall not 
complain, though I have lost the labours of my life." 
His transcript* of the Cambridge Photius^ which 
was burnt in that fire, he afterwards rej)laced by 
patiently making a second transcript ; but his nu- 
merous notes on Aristophanes, which had also been 
consumed, were irrecoverably gone. 

* Two beautifully written fragments of it (scorched to a deep 
brown) are in my possession. — Ed. . 



POESONIANA. 321 

He used to call Bishop Porteus " Bishop Pw- 
teus'''' (as one who had changed his opinions from 
liberal to illiberal). 

For the scholarship of that amiable man Bishop 
Burgess he felt a contempt which he was unable to 
conceal. He was once on a visit at Oxford in com- 
pany with Cleaver Banks, where, during a supper- 
party, he gave great offence by talking of Burgess 
with any thing but respect. At the same supper- 
party, too, he offended Professor Holmes : ^ taking 
up an oyster which happened to be gaping, he ex- 
claimed. Quid dignum tanto feret Mo professor hi- 
atus t (substituting "professor" for ^'- prmnissor''^). 

Porson, having good reason to believe that Mat- 
thias was the author of the Pursuits of Literature^ 
used always to call him "the Pursuer of Literature." 

It was amusing to see Kidd in Person's company : 
he bowed down before Porson with the veneration 
due to some being of a superior nature, and seemed 
absolutely to swallow every word that dropped from 
liis mouth. Porson acknowledged (and he was slow 
to praise) that Ejdd was a very pretty scholar." 

Out of respect to the memory of Markland, Por- 

* The then Professor of Poetry. — ^Ed. 
t Horace, Ars Poet. 138.— Ed. 
14* 



322 POESONIANA. 

son went to see the house near Dorking, where he 
had spent his later years and where he died. 

I need hardly say that he thought Tyrwhitt an 
admirable critic. 

A gentleman who had heard that Bentley was 
born in the north, said to Porson, ""Wasn't he a 
Scotchman ? " — " 'No, sir," replied Porson ; " Bentley 
was a Greek scholar." 

He said, " Pearson would have been a first-rate 
critic in Greek, if he had not muddled his brains 
with divinity." 

He had a high opinion of Coray as a scholar, 
and advised me by all means to purchase his J3^ 
pocratesJ^ 

He liked Larcher's translation of Herodotus, 
and, indeed, all Larcher's pieces. At his recom- 
mendation I bought Larcher's Memoir e sicr Yenus. 
He was a great reader of translations, and never 
wrote a note on any passage of an ancient author 
without first carefully looking how it had been ren- 
dered by the different translators. 

Porson, of course, did not value the Latin writers 
BO much as the Greek ; but still he used to read many 

* i. e. TTie Treatise of Hippocrates on Airs, Waters, and Places (in 
Greek and French), 2 vols. — Ed, 



POKSONIANA. 323 

of the former with great care, particularly Cicero, of 
whose Tusculan J^s^utations he was very fond. 

For all modern Greek and Latin poetry he had 
the profoundest contempt. "When Herbert pub- 
lished the Musce, Etonenses, Porson said, after look- 
ing over one of the volumes, "Here is trash, fit 
only to be put behind the fire." 

His favourite authors in Greek (as, I believe, 
every body knows) were the tragedians and Aristo- 
phanes ; he had them almost by heart. 

He confessed to me and the present Bishop of 
Durham (Maltby), that he knew comparatively little 
of Thucydides — that, when he read him, he was 
obliged to mark with a pencil, in almost every page, 
passages which he did not understand. 

He dabbled a good deal in Galen. 

He cared less about Lucian than, considering 
the subjects of that* writer, you might suppose ; the 
fact was, he did not relish such late Greek. 

He sent Thomas Taylor * several emendations of 

* With that remarkahle person, Thomas Taylor, I was well 
acquainted. In Greek verbal scholarship he was no doubt very 
deficient (he was entirely self-taught) ; but in a knowledge of the 
matter of Plato, of Aristotle, of the commentators on Aristotle (them- 
selves a hbraiy), of Proclus, of Plotinus, &c., he has never, I pre- 
sume, been equalled by any Englishman. That he endeavoured to 



324 POKSONIANA. 

Plato's text for liis translation of tliat philosopher , 
but Taylor, from his ignorance 0f the Greek lan- 
guage, was unable to use them. 

carry into practice the precepts of the ancient philosophers is suffi- 
ciently notorious : that he did so to the last hour of his existence I 
myself had a proof: the day hefore he died, I went to see him; and 
to my inquiry " how he was ? " he answered, " I have passed a dread- 
ful night of pain — but you remeiiiber what Poddonius said to Pompey " 
(ahout pain heing no evil). 

Chalmers, in his Bio<j. Diet., expresses his regret that he can tell 
so little about Floyer Sydenham, the excellent translator of Plato, 
and remarks that he " deseiTes a fuller account." I give the fol- 
lowing particulars concerning him on the authority of Taylor, who 
when a young man was ultimate with Sydenham, and who, let me 
add, had a scrupulous regard to truth in whatever he stated. — 
Sydenham was originally a clergjTnan with a living of about 800/. 
per annum; hut, having fallen in love with a young lady whose 
father objected to his addresses because he was in the church, he 
threw up his living, and had recourse to the law as a profession. 
After all, it appears, he did not marry the fair one for whose sake 
he had sacrificed so much. Having made no progress at the bar, ho 
entered the naval service, went abroad, endured many hardships, 
and finally worked his way hack to England as a common sailor. He 
was far from young when he first applied himself to the study of 
Plato. During his later years Taylor became acquainted with him. 
On their first meeting, Sydenham shook Taylor cordially by the 
hand, and said he reckoned himself truly fortunate m having at last 
met with a real Platonist — deeply regretting his ovm want of fami- 
liarity with Proclus and Plotinus. He at that time lodged at the 
house of a statuary in the Strand. He was in very distressed cir- 
cumstances ; and regularly received two guineas a month from 
Harris (the author of Hermes). He used to dine at a neighbouring 



P0E60NIANA. 325 

A gentleman who, at the age of foiiy, wished to 
commence the study of Greek, asked Porson, with 
what books he ought to begin ? Porson answered, 
" With one only — Scapula's Lexicmi / read it 
through from the first page to the last." Of the 
editions of that work Porson most valued the Ge- 
neva one ; he said that he had found in it several 
things which were 2iot in the other editions. 

He recommended Gesner's Thesaurus in prefer- 
ence to all Latin dictionaries. 

He read a vast number of French works, and 
used to say, " If I had a son, I should endeavour 
to make him familiar with French and English au- 
thors, rather than with the classics. Greek and 
Latin are only luxuries." 

Of Italian, I apprehend, he knew little or no- 
thing. 

eating-house, where he had x\sii up a bill of 40^. This debt, as well 
as several other debts, he was unable to pay ; and his acquaintances 
refused to discharge his bUls, though they consented to maintain him 
during his abode in the Fleet-prison, where he was about to be con- 
fined. The uight preceding the day on which he was to be carried to 
gaol he was found dead — having imdoubtedly (as Taylor asserted) 
put an end to his existence. For some time before his death he had 
been partially insane : as he went up and down stairs, he fancied 
turkeys were gobbling at him, &c. — Ed. 



326 POKSONIANA. 

He delighted in Milton. "K I live," lie ex- 
claimed, " I will write an essay to sliow the world 
how unjustly Milton has been treated by Johnson." 
(George Steevens told me that Johnson said to 
him, "In my Life of Milton I have spoken of the 
Pa/radise Lost, not so much from my own convic- 
tions of its merit, as in compliance with the taste of 
the multitude." A very old gentleman, who had 
known Johnson intimately, assured me that the bent 
of his mind was decidedly towards scepticism ; that 
he was literally afraid to examine his own thoughts 
on religious matters ; and that hence partly arose 
his hatred of Hume and other such writers. — 
Dr. Gosset (as he himself told me) once dined with 
Johnson and a few others at Dr. Musgrave's (the 
editor of EuTijpides). During dinner, while Mus- 
grave was holding forth very agreeably on some sub- 
ject, Johnson suddenly interrupted him with, " Sir, 
you talk like a fool." A dead silence ensued ; and 
Johnson, perceiving that his rude speech had occa- 
sioned it, turned to Musgrave, and said, " Sir, I fear 
I have hurt your feelings." " Dr. Johnson," replied 
Musgrave, " I feel only for you.^'' I have often heard 
Mrs. Carter say, that, rude as Johnson might occa- 



POKSONIAKA. 327 

sionally be to others, both male and female, he had 
invariably treated her with gentleness and kindness. 
She perfectly adored his memory : and she nsed to 
read his Tour to the Hebrides once every year, think- 
ing it, as I do, one of his best works.) 

Porson was passionately fond of Swift's Tale of 
a Tiib, and whenever he saw a coi3y of it on a stall, 
he wonld purchase it. He could repeat by heart a 
quantity of Swift's verses. 

His admiration of Pope was extreme. I have 
seen the tears roll down his cheeks while he was 
repeating Pope's lines To the Earl of Oxford^ ])i'e- 
fixed to ParnelVs Poems (and, indeed, I have seen 
him weep, while repeating other favourite passages, 
— the chorus in the Hercxdes Furens of Euripides, 
A veoTU'i fioL (f)L\ov ax^o^i, &c.) He thought Pope's 
Homer, in the finest passages of the poem, superior 
to Cowper's. One forenoon, while he was going over 
Pope's villa at Twickenham, in company with Kogers 
and myself, he said, " Oh, how I should like to pass 
the remainder of my days in a house which was the 
abode of a man so deservedly celebrated ! " 

He was fond of Foote's plays, and would often 
recite scenes from them. 



328 POESONIANA. 

Junius was one of his favourite authors ; lie had 
many passages of him by heart. 

He greatly admired and used often to repeat the 
following passage from the Preface to Middleton's 
Free Inquiry : 

" I persuade myself that the life and faculties of 
man, at the best but short and limited, cannot be 
employed more rationally or laudably than in the 
search of knowledge ; and especially of that sort 
which relates to our duty and conduces to our hap- 
piness. In these inquiries, therefore, wherever I 
perceive any glimmering of truth before me, I 
readily pursue and endeavour to trace it to its 
source, without any reserve or caution of jDushing 
the discovery too far, or opening too great a glare of 
it to the public. I look upon the discovery of any 
thing which is true as a valuable acquisition to so- 
ciety ; which cannot possibly hurt or obstruct the 
good effect of any other truth whatsoever ; for they all 
partake of one common essence, and necessarily coin- 
cide with each other ; and like the drops of rain, which 
fall separately into the river, mix themselves at once 
with the stream, and strengthen the general current." 

He liked Moore's Fables for the Female Sex, and 



POKSONIANA. 329 

I liave heard liim repeat the one which is entitled 
" The Female Seducers." * 

At a booksale, the auctioneer having put up 
Wilkes's edition of Theophrastus^ and praised it high- 
ly, Porson exclaimed, '•Pooli, pooh, it is like its 
editor — of no character." (I was very intimate 
with Wilkes. He felt excessively angry at the ac- 
count given of him in Gibbon's " Journal" — in the 
quarto edition of his Miscell. Works, i. 100 — and 
said to me that " Gibbon must have been drunk 
when he wrote that passage." The fact is, Lord 
Sheffield printed in the quarto edition only part of 
what G'Wbon had written about Wilkes : if the whole 
of it had appeared there, as it afterwards did in the 
octavo edition, I have no doubt that Wilkes would 
have called out Lord Sheffield.) 

Porson would often carry in his pocket a volume 
of A Cordial for Low Spirits, f 

* This now-forgotten poem was once very popular. Speaking of 
Dr. Mudge, " I remember," said Northcote, " his once reading Moore s 
fable of The Female Saucers with such feeling and sweetness that 
every one was delighted, and Dr. Mudge himself was so much affected 
that he burst into tears in the middle of it." Hazlitt's Conversations of 
Northcote, p. 89. At present Moore is only recollected as the author 
of The Gamester. — Ed. 

t As the Cordial for Low Spirits, in three volumes, is now little 
read, I may mention that it is a very curious collection of coritro- 



330 rORSONIANA. 

On returning from a visit to the Lakes, I told 
Porson that Southey had said to me, " My MadoG 
has brought me in a mere trifle ; but that poem will 
be a valuable possession to my family." Porson 
answered, " Madoc will be read — when Homer and 
Yirgil are forgotten " (a l)on-inot which reached Lord 
Byron, and which his lordship spoilt*). 

lie disliked reading folios, " because," said he, 
"we meet with so few mile-stones" {i. e. we have 
such long intervals between the turning over of the 
leaves). 

The last book he ever purchased was Watson's 
Horace / the last author he ever read was Pausa- 
nias. 

When asked why he had written so little, Porson 
replied, " I doubt if I could produce any original 
work which would command the attention of poste- 
rity. I can be known only by my notes : and I am 
quite satisfied if, three hundred years hence, it shall 

versial pieces, &c., some of which were written by Thomas Gordon 
(author of The Independent Whig), who edited the work. Its hetero- 
doxy did not render it the less acceptable to Porson. — Eu. 

* " Joan of Arc was marvellous enough ; but Thalaba was one 
of those poems 'which,' in the words of Porson, 'will be read when 
Homer and Virgil are forgotten — but — not till then.' " Note on English 
Bards and Scotch Reviewers. — Ed. 



POBSONIAJSTA. 331 

be said that ' one Porson lived towards the close of 
the eighteenth century, who did a good deal for the 
text of Euripides.' " 

The Letters on the Orgies of Bacchus, signed 
" Mythologus," are undoubtedly by Porson, Kadd 
says that "his mind must have been overclouded"* 
at the time he wrote those Letters : which is not 
true ; his mind was then in its soundest and most 
vigorous state. They show plainly enough what his 
opinions were. When any one said to him, " "Why 
don't you speak out more plainly on matters of re- 
ligion ? " he would answer, " ISTo, no ; I shall take 
care not to give mine enemies a hold upon me." 
The Ifew Catechism for the tise of the Swinish 
Multitude (which Carlisle of Fleet Street reprinted) 
was also certainly by Porson. I transcribed it from 
a copy in his own handwriting.f 

It is not known who wrote Six more Letters to 

* Porsoti's Tracts, p. xxxiii. note. The object of these Letters 
(originally printed in The Morning Chronicle, and reprinted in The 
Spii-it of the Public Journals for 1797) is to point out, or rather to 
insinuate, the resemhlance between the history of Bacchus and that 
of our Saviour. However they may shock the reader, at least they 
can do him no harm ; the whole being quite as absurd as it is pro- 
fane. — Ed. 

t A gentleman informed me that Porson presented to liim a copy 
of the Catechism — a printed co^y. — Ed. 



332 poesonian:a. 

Granville 8harj9, whicli, according to the title-page, 
are by Gregory Blimt. Tliey were very generally 
attributed to Porson ; and I have been in a book- 
seller's shop with him, when a person has come in, 
and asked for "Mr. Porson's remarks on Sharp." 
I do not believe that he was the author of them ; 
but I have little doubt that he gave some assistance 
to the author, particularly in the notes. He always 
praised the work, and recommended it to his 
friends.* 

I have often heard him repeat the following lines, 
which, I presume, were his own composition : f 

'"'• Poetis nos Imtarinir triitcs, 
Pye, Fetro Pindar, parto Pybua r 
Si uUerius ire pergis, 
Adde Ms Sir James Bland Burges." 

Porson thought meanly of the medical science, 

* These Six more Letters form a sort of supplement to a publicatiou 
by the late Dr. Christopher Wordsworth, entitled Six letters to Gran- 
ville Sharp, Esq., respecting his Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive 
Article in the Greek Text of the New Testament, 1802. In the "Adver- 
tisement" to Who wrote EIKflN BA2IAIKH, &c., 1824, Dr. Words- 
worth states that Porson "assured him privately" that the Six more 
Letters were not from his pen. — Ed. 

\ They are printed by Dubois, but very incorrectly, in his satire 
on Sir John Carr, My Pochct-Book, &c., p. 91. — Ed. 



PORSONIAJSTA. 333 

and hated consulting physicians. He once said to 
me, " I have been staying with Dr. Davy at Cam- 
bridge : I was unwell, and he prevailed upon me to 
call in a physician, who took my money, and did me 
no good." 

During the earlier part of our acquaintance, 1 
have heard him boast that he had not the slightest 
dread of death — declaring that he despised fdbulm 
aniles, and quoting Epicharmus (from Cicero*), &c. 
He was once holding forth in this strain, when Dr. 
Babington said to him, " Let me tell you, Porson, 
that I have known several persons who, though, 
when in perfect health, they talked as you do now, 
M^ere yet dreadfully alarmed when death was really 
near them," 

A man of such habits as Porson was Kttle fitted 
for the ofiice of Librarian to the London Institu- 
tion. He was very irregular in his attendance there ; 
he never troubled himself about the purchase of 
books which ought to have been added to the li- 
brary ; and he would frequently come home dead- 
drunk long after midnight. I have good reason to 
believe that, had he lived, he would have been re- 

* Tusc. i. 8.— Ed, 



334 POKSONIANA. 

quested to give up the office — in other words, he 
would have been dismissed. I once read a letter 
which he received from the Directors of the Institu- 
tion, and which contained, among other severe things, 
this cutting remark — " We only know that you are 
our Librarian by seeing your name attached to the 
receipts for your salary." His intimate friend, Dii. 
Eaine, was one of those who signed that' letter ; and 
Raine, speaking of it to me, said, " Porson well de- 
served it." As Librarian to the Institution, he had 
200Z. a-year, aj)artments rent-free, and the use of a 
servant. Yet he was eternally railing at the Direc- 
tors, calling them "mercantile and mean beyond 
merchandize and meanness." 

During the two last years of his life I could 
perceive that he was not a little shaken ; and it is 
really wonderful, when we consider his drinking, 
and his total disregard of hours, that he lived so 
long as he did. He told me that he had had an 
affection of the lungs from his boyhood. 



ADDENDA ET CORRIGENDA. 



P. 16. The full title of Mr. Rogers's earliest publi- 
cation is An Ode to Superstition with some other Poems. 
The small pieces annexed to the Ode are, lines " To a 
Lady on the Death of her Lover," " The Sailor," " A 
Sketch of the Alps at Day-break," and "A Wish." The 
first of these Mr. Rogers thought unworthy of preserva- 
tion : but it may be subjoined here : — - 

" To a Lady on the Death of her Lover. 

" Hail, pensive, pleasing Melancholy, hail ! 
Descend, and woo, with me, the silent shade ; 
The curfew swings its sound along the gale, 
And the soft moonlight sleeps in every glade. 

She comes, she comes ! through **'s dusky grove, 
In mild Eliza's form, I see her come ! 
Mourning with all the widow's vows of love 
Her Henry's summons to his long, long home. 

But hark ! from yon bright cloud a voice she hears ! 
* No more, fond maid, from social pleasures fly : 
' I'm sent from heaven to smile away thy tears, 
' For Henry shares the triumphs of the sky. 



336 ADDENDA ET CORRIGENDA. 

' He's gone before but to prepare for thee ; 

' And when thy soul shall wing its willing flight, 

' His kindred soul, from all its fetters free, 

' Will spring to meet thee in the realms of light. 

' Know, ye shall then, with mutual wonder, trace 
' Each little twinkling star in yon blue sphere, 
' Explore what modes of being people space, 
' And visit worlds whose laws he taught thee here. 

' Go, act an angel's part, be misery's friend ; 
' Go, and an angel's feelings shalt thou gain. 
' Each grateful spirit o'er thy couch shall bend, 
' And whisper peace, when flattery's voice is vain. 

' Wake from thy trance. Can virtue sink in sighs 7 
' When darkness frowns, she looks beyond the tomb. 
' Memory and Hope, like evening stars, arise, 
' And shed their mingled rays to gild the gloom. 

' Religion speaks. She bids thy sorrows cease : 
' With gratitude enjoy what God has given. 
' Religion speaks. She points the path to peace : 
' Attend her call to happiness and heaven.' " 

P. 18, note. Dele the sentence — " One or two songs," 
&e. 

P. 175, 176. For " Marley " read " Marlay."— He 
was successively Bishop of Clonfert and Bishop of Water- 
ford. 



INDEX TO RECOLLECTIONS 



THE TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 



Adair, Sir Robert, 97. 

Adams, 106. 

Addington, 109. 

Addisou, 49. 

Adventurer, The, 96. 

Africanus, Scipio, 174. 

Aikin, 81. 

Alexis, 290. 

Allen, 201. 

Alvanley, Lord, 163, 213, 214. 

Anspach, Margravine of, 127. 

Antonio, Marc, 154. 

Ariosto, 91, 255. 

Art Union, The, 156. 

Aston, 31, 32, 33. 

Auger, 172. 

Bacon, 156. 

Baillie, Joanna, 228. 

Baber, 283, 284. 

Banks, 156. 

Bankes, 288. 

Bannister, 8. 

Barbauld, Mrs. 81, 95, 179, 180, 

241. 
BaiTe, 248. 
Barry, 88. 
Bath, Lord, 214. 
Bathurst, Lord, 25, 265, 266. 
15 



Bathurst, Lady, 26. 

Beattie, 40, 44. 

Beauclerk, 40. 

Beaumont, Sir George, 8, 31, 32, 

33, 188. 
Beccaria, 257. 

Beckford, 214, 215, 216, 217. 
Bedford, Francis Duke of, 83. 
Beechy, Sir William, 153. 
Beloe, 134, 141. 
Benlinck, Lord William, 100. 
Beranger, 253. 
Berry, the Misses, 258. 
Berthier, 269. 
Besborough, Lady, 70. 
Besborough, Lord, 135. 
Betty (the Young Roscius), 87. 
Bishop, 115. 
Blair, 45. 
Bloomfield, Sir Benjamin, 265, 

266. 
Blount, Martha, 25. 
Boddington, 41, 42, 125. 
Bolingbroke, Lord, 25, 95. 
Bon-mots, 118. 
Borghese collection of pictures, 

153. 
Bossuet, 49. 
Boswell, 10, 19. 



338 



INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS. 



Bosville, 128. 

Bowles, 221, 258, 259. 

Bowles, Mrs., 259. 

Boyce, Miss, 230. 

Brome, Lord, 143. 

Brougham, Lord, 234. 

Buckingham, Duchess of, 2G6. 

Bufifon, 49. 

Buonaparte, 86, 93, 288. (See 

Napoleon.') 
Buonaparte, Lucien, 2G9. 
Burdett, Sir Francis, 128. 
Burke, 19, 20, 66, 78, 79, 80, 82, 

83, 99, 173, 270, 271. 
Burnet, 88. 
Burns, 46. 
Butler, 112. 
Byron, Lord, 192, 209, 222, 228, 

229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 

235, 236, 237, 238, 239. 240, 

24], 281. 

C^SAR, Julius, 93, 174, 269. 
Campbell, Lady Charlotte, 263. 
Campbell, Thomas, 28, 207, 228, 

238, 250, 251, 252. 
Canning, 159, 160, 161. 
Canova, 156, 270. 
Canterbury, Lord, 286. 
Carlisle, Lorcx, 72, 177. 
Caroline, Queen, 263. (See 

Wales, Princess of.) 
Cary, 282, 283, 284. 
Castlereagh, Lord, 189, 256. 
Catherine, Empress, 103, 104. 
Chantrev, Sir Francis, 156, 157, 

158, 192. 
Charade, 255. 
Charlotte, Queen, 75, 261. 
Charlotte, Princess, 265, 266. 
Chatham, Lord, 100, 132. 
Ciiesterfield, Lord, 118. 
Churchill, 139. 
Clairvoyance, 290. 
Clarence, Duke of, 260. (See 

William the Fourth.) 
Claude, 155, 188. 
(Cleopatra, 174. 



Cline, 96, 127, 129. 

Clive, Lord, 62. 

Cocked Hats, 7. 

Coleridge, 150, 202, 203, 204, 

205, 206, 282. 
Collins, 109, 202. 
Colman, 248. 
Coloseum in the Regent's Park, 

190. 
Combe, 112, 113, 114, 115, 187. 
Condorcet, 41. 
Congreve, 95. 
Cooke, 136. 
Cork, Lady, 105, 287. 
Corneille, 49. 
Cornwallis, Lord, 143. 
Courtenay, 36. 

CowTDer, 28, 96, 134, 135, 136. 
Crabbe, 163, 245, 246, 247. 
Credi, 158. 
Crewe, Mr. and Mrs., afterwards 

Lord and Lady, 23, 63, 64, 80, 

99, 172, 218. 
Crowe, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227. 
Cumberland, Duke of, 102. 
Cumberland, Richard, 136, 137. 
Ciirran, 158, 159. 
Cuyp, 153. 

D'Alembert, 128. 

Dance, 21. 

Dannecker, 157. 

Darwin, ISO. 

D'Arblay, Madame, 179, 192. 

Dawson, Mrs., 248. 

Deaths of friends in newspapers, 

199. 
Delille, 48. 
Derby, Lord, 198. 
Devonshire, Georgiana, Duchess 

of, 190, 191, 250. 
Devonshire, William, fifth Duke 

of, 191. 
Dino, Duchess di, 253. 
D'Israeh, 29. 

Doria collection of pictures, 153. 
Douglas, 106. 
Drummond, Sir William, 261. 



INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS. 



339 



Dryden, 29, 30, 31, 88, 89, 221. 
Dudley, Lord, 184, 262. (See 

Ward.) 
Duels, 212, 213, 214. 
Dundas, 110, 144. 
Dunmore, Lady, 177. 
Dunmore, Lord, 143. 
Dunning, 56. 
Durham, Lord, 254. 
Dyer, 271. 

Eldon, Lord, 126, 189. 
Elgin Marbles, 153. 
Ellenborough, Lord, 196, 197. 
EUis, George, 159. 
Ellis, Welbore, 63. 
Englefield, Sir Henry, 152, 261. 
Erskine, Lord, 51, 52, 53, 54, 

126, 127, 286. 
Essex, Lord, 267. 
Este, 58, 59, 142. 
Euripides, 92. 

Farnboeough, Lord, 21. 

Farren, Miss, 16. 

Fielding, 227. 

Fincastle, Lord, 277. 

Fitzpatrick, 10, 65, 73, 104, 105, 
113, 191, 278. 

P'laxman, 156. 

Foote, 100, 101, 102. 

Fordyce, 23. 

Foscolo, 282. 

Fox, Charles James, 20, 36, 72, 
73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 
81, 82, 83, 84, 85, g6, 87, 88, 
89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 
97, 98, 99, 100, 104, 142, 248, 
254. 

Fox, Mrs., 84, 85, 87, 88, 97, 
105. 

Fox, General, 84, 85. 

Fox, Joseph, 201. 

J'rancis, Sir PhiUp, 272, 273. 

Frere, 16, 159, 192, 203. 

Fuller, 192. 

Fuseli, 198. 



Gaeeick, 7, 8, 9, 87, 88, 101, 

106, 107, 136. 
Genlis, Madame de, 80, 81. 
George the Third, 90, 259, 260. 
George the Fourth, 266, 267, 

268. (See Wales, Prince of.) 
Gerald, 49. 
Gibbon, 66, 77, 78, 115, 134, 

174, 196. 
Gifford, 208, 209, 210, 211. 
Gilpm, 18, 256. 
Giorgione, 155. 
Glenbervie, Lady, 83. 
Gloucester, Duchess of, 163. 
Glynn, 134. 
Godwin, 248, 249. 
Goethe, 252. 
Goldsmith, 85. 
Gordon, Jane, Duchess of, 143, 

144. 
Gordon, Lord George, 182. 
Graham, Sir James, 289. 
Grattan, 172, 173, 174, 175. 
Gray, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 91, 160, 

221. 
Grenville, Lord, 78, 109, 110, 

111, 256. 
GrenviUe, Rt. Hon. Thomas, 8, 

54, 63, 178, 198. 
Grey, Lord, 191. 
Guido, 154. 
GuUker's Travels, 257. 
Guilford, Ladj^, 198. 
Guilford, Lord, 220, 221. 
Gurwood, 289, 290. 

Hadyn, 22. 

Halford, Sir Henry, 268. 

Halhed, 67. 

Hamilton, Alexander, Duke of, 

217. 
Hamilton, Archibald, Duke of, 

177. 
Hamilton, Duchess of, 214, 217. 
Hamilton, Lady, 141, 142. 
Hamilton, Sir WilUam, 141. 
Hamilton, William Gerard, 173. 
Hampden, Lord, 141. 



340 



INDEX TO THE KECOLLECTIONS. 



Hampstead Assemblies, 102. 

Hanuibal, 174. 

Hare, 101. 

Harington, Sir John, 255. 

Harris, 128. 

Hayley, 56, 57, 58. 

Head-dresses of the ladies, 22. 

Helens, Lord St., 103, 104. 

Henderson, 109, 136. 

Herschel, Sir John, 196. 

Highwaymen in former days, 198. 

Hippocrates, 94. 

Historians, the Greek and Latin, 

93, 94. 
Hobhouse, 228, 237. 
Hogarth, 155. 
Holland, Henry Lord, 201. 
Holland, H. R. Vassal! Lord, 1, 

27, 57, 71, 82, 137, 202, 256, 

274, 275, 276. 

Holland, Lady, 96, 272, 273, 274, 

275, 286. 

Homer, 60, 61, 62, 92. 
Hook, 285, 286. 
Hoole, 130. 
Hope, 264. 
Hoppner, 208, 211. 
Horner, 278. 
Horsley, 212. 
Howard, 151. 
Howarth, 213. 

Howley, Bishop, afterwards Arch- 
bishop, 71, 170^83. 
Hume, 44, 105, 106, 123, 143. 
Hunt, 236. 
Hunter, John, 60. 
Hunter, Mrs., 46. 
Hurd, 101. 

Lnchbald, Mrs., 243, 244. 
Ireland, curses of, 199. 
Irishmen, Three, behaviour of, 

189. 
Isabey, 269. 

Jackson, John, 157. 
Jackson, Dr. Cyril, 161. 



I Jeffrey, Lord, 277, 278, 280, 
Jekyll, 105. 

Jersey, Lady, 193, 230, 264, 265. 
Johnson, 9, 10. 
Jorda. , Mrs., 64. 
Jortin, 49. 

Josephine, Empress, 269. 
Junius s Letters, 173, 270, 271, 
272. 



Kemble, 87, 151, 186, 187, 188. 

Kenyon, Lord, 196. 

Kippis, 43, 133. 

Knight, 60, 202. 

Knighton, Sir William, 267. 

Knowles, 285. 

Kosciusko, 51. 

Lafayf^tte, 41, 

Lamartine, 253. 

Lamb, Lady Caroline, 231, 232. 

Lancaster, 200. 

Lane, 138. 

Lansdowue, Lord, 57, 58, 137. 

Laurence, Dr., 20, 78, 270. 

Laurence, Sir Thomas, 154, 155, 

158, 183, 184, 185, 267. 
Lawless, 24. 
Legge, 159. 
Leopold, Prince, 266. 
Lewis, 163, 164. 
Lindsay, Lady Charlotte, 261. 
Lionardo, 154. 
Listen, 253. 

Living like brothers, 182. 
Lonsdale, Lord, 189, 206, 207. 
Loughborough, Lord, 107. 
Luc an. Lady, 10. 
Lunardi, 84. 

Luttrell, 30, 53, 233, 276. 
Lyttelton, (ieorge Lord, 95, 118. 
Lyttelton, Thomas Lord, 95, 118, 

119. 



Mack, 268. 
Mackenzie, 44, 45, 46. 



INDEX TO THE EEC0LLECTI0N8. 



341 



Mackintosh, Sir James, 48, 49, 
85, 194, 195, 196, 204, 251, 
271, 276, 283, 

Macleane, 38. 

Macready, 285. 

Mall, The, 11. 

Malmesbury, Lord, 128. 

Malone, 79, 270. 

Maltby, 9, 17, 108. 

Malthus, 194. 

Mansel, 39. 

Manzoni, 257. 

Marivaux, 47, 48. 

Marlay, 175, 176. 

Marmontel, 81, 121. 

Martindale, 190. 

Mary, Queen, 26. 

Mason, 17, 35, 39. 

Massinger, 90. 

Matthias, 38, 133, 134, 135. 

Melbourne, Lord, 284. 

Melville, Lady, 220, 221. 

Melville, Lord, 220. 

Metastasio, 90. 

Mickle, 95. 

Middleton, 49, 172. 

Milton, 90, 128, 149, 150, 194, 
221, 227. 

Mitford, 137. 

Molicre, 49. 

IMonboddo, Lord, 50. 

Mousey, 211, 212. 

Montagu, Lady M. W., 39. 

Moore, Sir John Henry, 46, 47. 

Moore, Thomas, 68, 69, 158, 160, 
221, 227, 228, 233, 276, 277, 
278, 279, 280, 281, 282. 

Morris, 250. 

Murat, 274. . 

Murphy, 100, 101, 106, 107, 108. 

Naples, Queen of, 274. 
Napoleon, 268, 269, 270. (See 

Buonaparie.) 
Nash, 102. 

National Gallery, 153. 
Nelson, Lord, 141, 142. 
Now publications, 199. 



North, Lord, 63, 78, 83, 248. 
Northcote, 21. 

O'COIGLY, 48, 

Ogle, 69. 
Oglethorpe, 1 0. 
Orde, Mrs., 216. 
Ottley, 158, 

Painters, living, 155. 
Paley, 91, 117. 

Pamela (Lady Edward Fitzge- 
rald,) 67, 80. 
Panshanger, pictures at, 153. 
Parr, 48, 49, 62, 63. 
Pascal, 49. 
Pearson, 129. 
Peel, Sir Robert, 247, 248, 284, 

289. 
Pepys, Sir William Weller, 7. 
Petrarch, 91. 

Piozzi, Mr. and Mrs., 16, 45. 
Pitt, George (Lord Rivers), 54, 

55. 
Pitt, William, 78, 79, 82, 109, 

110, 111, 112, 143. 
Places given away by Govern- 
ment, 176. 
Plays, new, 253. 
Poole, 264. 
Pope, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 38, 

9L 
Person, 79, 108, 134, 217, 218, 

219. 
Portland, Duke of, 83. 
Poussin, 155, 188. 
Praising children, 227. 
Price, Dr., 4, 5, 6, 7, 43, 106, 

152. 
Price, Major, 259, 260. 
Price, Sir"Uvedale, 75, 113, 114. 
Princesses, the, daughters of 

George the Third, 261, 
Prior, 247. 
Priestley, 121, 122. 
Pronunciation c*f Words, 248, 

QuiN, 31. 



34:2 



INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS. 



Racine, 49, 222. 

llacine, the younger, 222. 

lialeigh, Sir Walter, 95. 

Ranelagh, 11. 

Raphael, 153, 154. 

Rat, Lord Howth's, 167. 

Rembrandt, 155. 

Rennell, 134. 

Revolution, the French, 176. 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 18, 19, 20, 

21, 22, 77, 86, 155. 
Richardson, Joseph, 64. 
Richardson, Samuel, 180. 
Richmond, Duke of, 82. 
Richmond, Duchess of, 240. 
Robertson, 43, 44, 45, 88. 
Robinson, Mrs., 142. 
Robinson Crusoe, 257. 
Rochefoucauld, Duke de la, 41. 
Rogers, Samuel : 

anecdotes of his childhood, 
boyhood, youth, &9., jjossim. 

his Scribbler, 11. 

his Ode to Superstition, 16. 

his Captivity, 16. 

his lines To the Gnat, 16. 

his Pleasures of Memory, 17, 18. 

his Human Life, 18, 173, 174, 
244. 

his Italy, 18. 

his Vintage of Burgundy, 18. 

his contribution to an article 
in The Edinburgh Review, 283. 
Romney, 63. 
iiose, 244, 255, 256. 
Roslin, Lady, 254. 
Rousseau, 105. 
Rubens, 155. 
Russell, Lord John, 289. 
Russell, Thomas, 170, 171. 
Rutland, Duke of, 245. 
Rutland, Duchess of, 245. 



Sacchi, 86. 

Sargent, 56. 

Salisbury, Lady, 249, 250. 

Sallust, 181. 



Scott, Sir Walter, 69, 192, 193, 
194, 206, 237, 247, 254, 256, 
280. 

Scriptures, English version of, 
220. 

Seaforth, Lord, 220. 

Segur, 104. 

Seiwyn, 201. 

Shakespeare, 88, 92, 95, 149, 

150, 200, 219, 221, 281. 
Sharp, 1, 17, 130, 131, 195. 
Shelburne, Lord, 121, 177. 
Shelley, 235, 236. 

Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 31, 
63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 
71, 73, 78, 80, 118, 186, 190, 
193, 227. 

Sheridan, Mrs., first wife of R. B. 
S., 71. 

Sheridan, Mrs., second wife of 
R. B. S., 230. 

Sheridan, Mrs., mother of R. B. 
S., 90. 

Sheridan, Thomas, 49. 

Siddons, Mrs., 58, 87, 109, 136, 

151, 185, 186, 187, 200, 244. 
Skeleton in the Church-porch, The, 

164. 
Smith, Adam, 43, 44, 45. 
Smith, John, 214. 
Smith, Robert, 181, 194. 
Smith, Sydney, 286, 287, 288. 
Smith, William, 81, 82. 
Soame, 17. 
Sonnet-ivriting, 207. 
Sophocles, 92. 

Southey, 204, 205, 220, 222, 289 
Spencer, Lady,, 10. 
Speucer, Lord, 8, 54. 
Spencer, Lord Robert, 162. 
Spencer, William, 218, 277. 
Spenser, Edmund, 205. 
St John, 113. 

Stael, Madame de, 282, 250, 251. 
Standard novels, 138. 
Stanhope, Lady Hester, 25-3, 
Stanley, Lord, 289. 
Steevens, 134: 



INDEX TO THE KECOLLECTIONS. 



343 



Stella, Swift's, 172. 

Sterne, 11-4. 

Stone, John, 80. 

Stone, William, 144, 145, 14G, 

147, 148, 149. 
Stothard, 110. 
Stowell, Lord, 142, 143. 
Sueur, Le, 86. 
Surrey, Lord, 95. 
Sutherland, Duchess-Countess of, 

262. 
Swift, 50. 
Si/lph, The, 190. 
Tacitus, 181. 
Talleyrand, 80, 253, 268, 269, 

270. 
Tankerville, Lord, 73, 198. 
Tarleton, 248. 

Temple-Bar, rebels' heads on, 2. 
Thanet, Lord, 1G2. 
Thurlow, Lord Chancellor, 52, 

53, 56. 
Thurlow, Edward Lord, 279. 
Tickell, Richard, 63, 64, 71, 72. 
Tickell, Thomas, 96. 
Tierney, 82. 

Tight lacing of the ladies, 23. 
Tooke, 56, 81, 122, 123, 124, 

125, 126, 127, 128, 129. 
Topham, 58. 
Townley, 182, 183. 
Townshend, Lord John, 65. 
Tree, Miss (Mrs. Bradshaw), 276, 
Trelawney, 235, 236. 
Trotter, 97. 
Turner, 155, 
Turton, 129. 

Umbrellas, 40, 
Usher, 207. 

Vernon, 132. 
Virgil, 94, 205. 
Voltaire, 44, 48, 75, 91, 



Wakefield, 134, 140, 141. 
Wales, Prince of, 52, 53, 141, 

142, 161, 191, 260, 264, 265 

266. (See George the Fourth.') 
Wales, Princess of, 261, 262, 263. 

(See Caroline, Queen.) 
Walpole, 134. 
Warburton, 26. 

Ward, 151. (See Dudley, Lord.) 
Warton, Joseph, 133. 
Warton, Thomas, 133, 134. 
W^ashington, 172. 
Webb, 56. 
Wellington, Duke of, 82, 268, 

288, 89, 290. 
Wesley, 120. 
West, Richard, 38, 39. 
West, Benjamin, 208, 
Wewitzer, 65. 
Whyte, Lydia, 70. 
Wilberforce, 82, 112. 
Wilkes, 42, 233. 
William the Third, 26, 172. 
William the Fourth, 260. (See 

Clarence, Dulce of.) 
Williams, Helen Maria, 50, 
Wilson, 153. 

Windham, 75, 86, 96, 164. 
Winter in London, A, 191, 
Wolcot, 139, 
Woodfall, 271. 
Words twisted, &c., 43. 
Wordsworth, William, 37, 88, 

138, 150, 170, 203, 204, 205, 

206, 207, 222, 282. 
Wordsworth, Miss, 205, 206. 
World, The, 96, 

York, Duke of, 53, m, 161, 162, 
265, 266, 

York, Duchess of, 162, 163, 164, 

Young, 34. 

Youth always appearing beauti- 
ful to the old, 138. 



INDEX TO POESONIAI^A. 



Ash, 304. 

Babington, 333. 
Baker, Sir George, 296. 
Banks, 303, 317, 318, 321. 
Barker, 315. 
Bentley, 322. 
Bryant, 303. 
Burgess, 321. 
Burney, 307, 315, 310. 
Byron, Lord, 330. 

Carter, Mrs., 326. 
Cogan, 300. 
Coray, 322. 
Cumberland, 314. 

Davy, 317, 333. 
Donglas, 303. 

Kgeuton, 302. 
Elgin, Lord, 320. 

Fox, 318. 

Gibbon, 302, 303. 
Goodall, 296. 
Gosset, 326' 
Gumey, 300, 301. 



Heathcote, 301. 
Herbert, 323. 
HoUand, Lord, 318. 
Holmes, 321. 
Hoppner, 298, 299. 
Horsley, 314. 

Jennings, 304. 
Johnson, 326. 

KiDD, 321. 

Larcher, 322. 

Mackintosh, Sir James, 318. 
Maltby, "William, passim. 
Maltby, Bishop, 304, 323. 
Maltby, Mr. brother to the Bish- 
op, 299, 319. 
Markland, 322. 
Matthias, 321. 
Musgrave, 326. 

Paley, 304. 

Parr, 313, 314, 315. 

Pearson, 322. 

Perry, 320. 

Porson, Richard, passim. 

Porteus, 321. 



346 



INDEX TO POESONIANA. 



Postlethwaite, 308, 309. 
Pretyman (afterwards Tomliiie), 

319. 
Priestley, 314. ' 

Raine, 301, 317. 
Rogers, 318, 319. 

Sheffield, Lord, 329, 
Shipley, 296. 
Southey, 330. 



Stephens, 326. 

Taylor, 323. 
Tooke, 297, 298, 314. 
Tyrwhitt, 322. 

ViLLOISON. 320. 



Wakefield, 316, 317. 
Wilkes, 329. 



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{From the N. Y. Dispatch.) 
This is a plca.«ant and gi'aphic story, the scenes of which are laid in the city of TSen 
york. The light .ind dark, or the good and bad, of fashionable life are vividly intermin* 
gled, and described by a fertile and glowing pen, with much talent and skill. 

{From the Philadelphia City Item.) 
The whole work is so complete, finished and artistic, that we cannot bnt anticipate a 
brilliant and successful career for the writer, if she will devote herself faithfully to the high 
and influential department of art in which she has made so triumjjhant a debut 

{From Godey's Lady's Book.) 
Her creations are all life-like; her scenes natural; her personages such as one meets 
every day in the haunts of fashion or domestic life. We read her story believingly, and re- 
member the characters afterwards as old acquaintances. To produce such an effect upon 
ourself is to give assurance of an aiccunplished .artist. Maj' this author live to write many 
•tories not only of fashionable, but of all sorts of life, and may we have them to road. 



7 34 -4 






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